Never Turn Back
by Harmony Slytherin
Summary: Twisted. Two-faced. Traitor. Killing for the Dark Lord, spying for the Ministry. Assassin. Death Eater. Unspeakable...Ronald Weasley
1. The Emperor

Prologue:  
The Emperor  
  
No one had ever seen him like this before. No one had ever seen him smile. No one had ever seen him laugh. No one had ever seen him happy.  
  
The Emperor of Imperial Parsel was infatuated. Every time he looked at her he felt his spirits rise. Every time she smiled, he laughed with joy.  
  
Her name was Annabella. She was the Emperor's daughter.  
  
No one had ever seen the Emperor like he was in his daughter's presence. The people of Parsel adored Princess Annabella for making their Emperor happy. No one else could do it. They were treated kindly in the years after the Princess was born.  
  
However, the Emperor was still a shrewd man. In secret, he brooded on his daughter's future. She was too beautiful, too perfect to be spoilt be a man's harsh grasp. Even when she was still a toddler, her golden curls angelically framing a pretty heart-shaped face, the Emperor knew ambitious nobles were teaching their sons how to seduce her.  
  
And so, in secret, the Emperor brooded and planned, and then began to forge his weapon against eager young men. It was a dagger, handed down the royal line for centuries. The hilt was obsidian, and the iron blade was encrusted with silver. Secretly, the Emperor concocted potions and invented charms that would protect his daughter.   
  
Years before the dagger was completed, the Emperor knew how it would work. He would pierce the flesh of anyone who dared court Annabella. If she loved the courtier, he would live, and they would wed. If not, the foolish suitor would die.  
  
The Emperor was not a fool. He knew certain suitors would gladly take the dagger and use it to murder the Emperor, or worse...Annabella. So he added something else to it. Something that would trick them all. If he or Annabella were pierced, they would be safe, because they were bonded through parenthood. The bonds between a parent and child would save anyone pierced by his dagger.   
  
True, any of the suitors who weren't orphans would survive his test, but that just meant the Emperor would just have to kill off the parents of the suitors.  
  
The Princess Annabella was thirteen years of age when the Emperor finished his dagger, adding in silver paint the rune of Parseltongue meaning Death. He killed many with it. However, little did the Emperor know, the weapon would prove useless against the most dangerous man who would come, not to court his daughter, but to carry out more sinister deeds.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A young boy, about three years old, sat straight up in bed. His auburn hair clung to his head with sweat, and his dark eyes quickly adjusted to the dark light as he looked around the hotel room. His mother was still asleep, even though the television was still on.   
  
It was not the first time he had had a vision of the Emperor and his pretty daughter. It would not be the last.  
  
The boy felt cold despite the heat of summer. Quietly he climbed out of bed and towards his sleeping mother. He studied her face.  
  
His mother was pretty too, like the princess in his dreams. The only difference was the hair. The princess's hair was gold, but his mother's hair was red, bright fiery red, just like that of his grandfather and great aunts and uncles he had seen only through his visions.   
  
The boy curled up next to his mother and fell asleep. His name was Charlie. His mother's name was Grace.  
  
Meanwhile, a nameless fear tore angrily across the globe, searching always for the presence of Grace Weasley. Because where Grace Weasley was, her son Charlie would be. And where Charlie was, the only hope of the resurrection of evil lay. 


	2. TwoFaced

Author's Note: Okay, everyone, this is the first chapter of 'Never Turn Back'. There are seven chapters total, and an epilogue. Most important thing about this fic? I'M DONE!!!!! ^_^ yay! It's a total of 160 pages. And...yeah, that's about all the stuff you need to know. So, since I'm finished already, I've decided that I will pull one of those 'I'll update when I get such-and-such reviews'. After I get ten reviews for this chapter, I'll post chapter two. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, or anyone in this story. 'How You Remind Me' belongs to Nickleback, and all the characters, people, and places you recognize belong to the Almighty JKR. Angel and Rayven have a mind of their own.  
  
Dedication: For star*dust, Diana Snape, and Sierra Charm, who have been there all the way through this story, supporting me and offering their help. I love you girls! Also for Britz and Silverphoenixwings, just for being the two coolest non-Hoosiers I know! Love you all! ^_^  
  
And, without further ado...  
  
  
  
Never Turn Back  
  
By: Harmony Slytherin  
  
Chapter One:  
Two-Faced  
  
  
~Never made it as a wise man  
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin'  
Tired of livin' like a blind man  
I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling  
This is how you remind me  
This is how you remind me of what I really am~  
  
*Nickleback's "How You Remind Me"  
  
  
Wrong. This was all so very wrong. This was not what Ron's last night at Hogwarts was supposed to be like. He was supposed to be in the Gryffindor tower, remembering old times with Harry and Hermione. He was supposed to be saying goodbye to his teachers. He was supposed to be feeling sad and already missing the castle that had been his home for seven years. Hell, even hating his best friends, his teachers, the castle, and having a sleepless night of anticipation would've been so much better than this.  
  
Not here. Ron was not supposed to be here, like this. This was not the way he had it planned. This was wrong...oh so very wrong.  
  
Damn the Ministry! Damn them all! Damn them for giving him this opportunity. Opportunity...Ron sneered. Maybe that's the way he viewed it then, but not now. Not anymore.  
  
He hated his life. Hated this cruel, mocking existence. He wanted nothing more than to end it, but no. He wouldn't. He was doing this for Harry and Hermione and Ginny. Not that they could ever know...they would never understand.  
  
The pain in his left forearm was killing him. Ron cursed the Dark Lord. Cursed him...like he had cursed so many others. Behind the mask, his blue eyes were blazing.  
  
Ronald Weasley, Death Eater.  
  
Not exactly what he had in mind. Well, what can you do? Ron didn't go into this line of work because of his support of Voldemort. Quite the opposite. Ron did this for the war...he did this for Harry...he did this for the Ministry.  
  
He was saving the whole bloody world, dammit!  
  
The room was quickly filling with Death Eaters. None would be late. The Dark Lord did not like to be kept waiting, and therefore no one liked to keep him so. This was one of the few times Ron had gone while other Death Eaters were present. Usually Voldemort would summon Ron alone, and then ask a special favor.  
  
What kind of special favor? Usually murder. Of course, Death Eaters murder all the time, but rarely did the Dark Lord give specific orders of who to kill. If there was real killing to be done, Voldemort preferred to do it himself. But when it fell somewhere in between these two extremities, the Dark Lord gave the orders to Ron.  
  
Ronald Weasley, assassin.  
  
Had a nice ring to it, don't you think? Ron smirked: no, he didn't think. He took orders from the Dark Lord and carried them out. Then he told the Ministry all about it, and took orders from them. The never-ending vicious cycle of Ron's life.  
  
Ron fell into line quickly. He looked down at the long row of black robed men...well mostly men. There were a few women, he supposed, but Ron didn't know the majority of them. He tried to spot Severus, but it was impossible. Oddly enough, he and the professor had something in common now. Ron smirked again.  
  
Ronald Weasley, Severus Snape's apprentice.  
  
There's something Ron never thought would happen...but had he expected any of this? Of course not. Ron hadn't expected to become an undercover spy for the Ministry. Ron hadn't expected to willingly sell his soul to Lucifer himself, killing for evil in the name of good.  
  
Voldemort swooped in, and the whispering of cloaks was stilled...hell, everything was still. The mere presence of the Dark Lord brought silence to every living thing. He surveyed his followers, his mouth drawn into a tight line of disgust.   
  
"Tonight, this line lengthens. Unless, of course, I am forced to kill someone."  
  
No one laughed. Lord Voldemort was not joking. Lord Voldemort did not like jokes.  
  
"As I hope all of you know, the seventh years at Hogwarts will be graduating. I have here six students who wish to..." He smiled, and Ron shivered. Lord Voldemort smiling was not exactly heartwarming. "Join us."  
  
There was a slight murmuring among the robed figures. Ron tightened; he had heard about this. When people joined after graduation, they went through the Ritual in front of everyone, and their identities were revealed. The Ritual was humiliating enough without throwing in seventy people who had already gone through it.  
  
"Silence!" The Dark Lord commanded, and silence there was. You did not disobey him. Not after you had sold your will to him...just as these six young souls were about to do.  
  
Ron didn't even want to see them. He didn't want to see them because he knew he would recognize them. And then, he would have to turn them into the Ministry.  
  
Voldemort sauntered over to the first of the six people dressed in Death Eater attire in the line facing Ron's. He pulled off the mask, and Ron was not at all surprised to see Gregory Goyle. For the first time in his life, Ron truly pitied Goyle, who had no idea of the pain he was about to endure.  
  
It started with the Cruciatus Curse. Goyle screamed, writhing in pain, but did not beg for mercy. That was the first step; don't beg for lenience. That, in Voldemort's eyes, only deserved further punishment.  
  
After ten minutes, Goyle was released from the clutches of the curse, He was breathing heavily and crying openly. He found no pity in the cold eyes of the onlookers or in his new master's, unless he by chance caught Ron's.  
  
"Stand." The Dark Lord commanded. Goyle did so, whimpering. Ron could see blood pouring from his lip, and bruises forming on his face. Voldemort showed no mercy. "Give me your arm." Goyle held out his left arm, which Voldemort took roughly. He shoved up the sleeve, revealing the unspoiled skin beneath. "Do you pledge your loyalty to me?" The Dark Lord hissed.  
  
"Yes, Master." Goyle responded, trying not to cry. Ron closed his eyes, perfectly envisioning the smirk on Voldemort's face. He would test loyalty. Ron opened his eyes again just in time to see the Dark Lord take out the dagger. He saw Goyle's eyes widen in fear. Ron wondered numbly if he had looked like that. He could remember nothing of the night the devil robbed him of his soul.  
  
Correction, the night he had given his soul to the devil.  
  
Goyle cried out when the dagger pierced his flesh, as Voldemort slowly drew the outline of the infamous skull-and-snake. Then the Dark Lord whispered, and his hand started to glow with an eerie green light. Grinning, he gripped the bleeding cut with his glowing hand.  
  
Goyle screamed. Screamed the scream of eternal pain...the scream of Hell, which he had willingly entered. He was brought to his knees by the pain. Voldemort laughed...laughed as if her were truly amused, which Ron was sure he was. Greedily, Voldemort squeezed Goyle's arm, as if breathing in his life, which was exactly what he was doing.  
  
When the Dark Lord finally did let go, Goyle fell and rolled away, sobbing. Ron cringed, remembering the pain. He found himself unconsciously rubbing his own scar of eternal damnation.  
  
Voldemort eagerly approached his next victim: Vincent Crabbe. He went through the same thing. Ron didn't want to hear their screaming in his ears, vibrating through his skin and entering the hidden chambers of his heart. This would bring many more sleepless nights to Ronald Weasley.  
  
After Crabbe was another Slytherin, no surprise. But then...when Voldemort ripped off the mask of his fourth newcomer, Ron's eyes widened. Looking perfectly calm and collected was Lisa Turpin.  
  
Lisa Turpin? Ron knew her! She was Ernie MacMillan's girlfriend! Hell, he had dated her in fifth year! When did she turn? When did sweet, innocent Lisa Turpin decide to give her life to the Dark Lord?  
  
Ron watched her suffering in shock, all of these thoughts flying through his mind. Her screams echoed in the stone chamber, like the memories flashing through his mind. Why? When? WHY?  
  
That question was answered when Lisa was over, and the next victim revealed, Ernie MacMillan, whom Ron had never liked. But still...a Hufflepuff? A pureblood Hufflepuff, sure, but a Hufflepuff?  
  
Ron sighed. Had Lisa thrown away her life for Ernie? Ron watched his ordeal with mounting dislike. The Death Eater he had become took over, and he almost enjoyed seeing MacMillan scream.  
  
Almost.  
  
Ron knew who the next person was. He looked away as she screamed trying not to cry. Angel was like him. Angel was a good person underneath.  
  
Angel was a spy.  
  
As if he knew this, Voldemort was the worst to her. Or maybe that's just what Ron had thought.  
  
When Angel fell...when Angel fell. Ron had to smile at the irony of that statement. She was a fallen angel now. In any case, when he tossed her down like a rag doll, now branded as one of the damned, he turned to the others, and dismissed them with a flick of his hand. Ron turned to apparate.  
  
"Number 63?" The cold voice of the Dark Lord rang out. Ron stopped and turned automatically. They all had numbers...all of them.  
  
"Yes, Master?" Ron asked, genuinely curious.  
  
"Come here." He commanded, as if this were obvious. He waited until everyone had gone...even those who had just joined their little 'I've decided to join Lucifer, how about you?' club.  
  
"There is another follower who wishes to join us here," Voldemort hissed to Ron. He stepped aside and another smaller figure stepped forward. Ron blanched. It wasn't that it the head coming out of the robes was female, or that she was small and delicate.  
  
It was the fact that this small, delicate, female, wanna-be Death Eater was Rayven Michaels.  
  
"This is Ronald Weasley, child," Voldemort hissed. The look on her face changed immediately from stubborn determination to guilt. "Weasley, she came to me a week ago wanting to be initiated tonight-" Ron glared at Rayven who looked away guiltily. A week ago? "But she didn't have time to be shown the ropes properly. She seems to have the same bloodlust you do." Ron nodded, trying not to puke. Bloodlust. Did Ron really want to kill? "Therefore, I have decided you shall train her. I'll leave you two to...talk." He smiled. Lord Voldemort's smile was not exactly heartwarming. He then disapparated.  
  
"Come," Ron instructed, his eyes flashing. He and the young Rayven Michaels quickly disapparated.  
  
With a small *pop* they were in Hogsmeade village. Ron tore of his mask and turned to glare at Rayven.  
  
"I thought we had decided that you shouldn't join until this summer!" He shouted.  
  
"YOU decided," Rayven defended weakly. "I wanted to join right away."  
  
"Rayven, are you nuts?" He demanded.  
  
"Of course she is," Severus Snape said, coming up to the two of them. "Calm yourself Ron."  
  
"She's not ready!"  
  
"She's plenty ready," Draco countered, as he and a beautiful brunette joined them. "Angel did it, didn't you?" She said, winking at her. Angel blushed, wiping away her remaining tears.  
  
"You all knew about this, didn't you?" Ron asked in defeat. Rather guiltily, Severus, Draco, and Angel nodded. Ron sighed. "Rayven, I just don't think you're ready yet!"  
  
"She IS ready, Ron." Severus defended. Draco nodded in agreement.  
  
"I was ready," Angel observed.   
  
"I just...I..."  
  
"Ron, we're not in training anymore," Rayven smiled shyly.  
  
"Wrong again." Ron replied, grinning.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, frowning.  
  
"I will be training Rayven...again." Ron said.  
  
"You're kidding!" Angel exclaimed. "Lucky you! I went through Death Eater training with Lucius Malfoy. That was a nightmare...no offense, Draco."  
  
"None taken." Draco shrugged. "I hate my father too."  
  
"Angel, we need to get back to London," Rayven sighed. She looked over at Ron. "Are you going to get pissed about this?"  
  
"No," Ron sighed. "No, of course not."  
  
"Thanks," She smiled. "See the rest of you later!" Severus, Draco, and Ron waved as Angel and Rayven disapparated to their private school in London.  
  
Severus had been the first spy. The first to risk his life and soul. He worked with the Unspeakables, and had convinced them to take on another spy: Draco Malfoy. Draco had been initiated sometime between fifth and sixth year, but had been giving the Ministry information about his father for two years before that.  
  
Ron had been the next to join. Working at the Ministry this last summer, Severus had picked up Ron's uncanny knack for the Unforgivable Curses. Not exactly the talent Ron wished for, but it worked. Severus had approached Ron, and after two months of rigorous training by both the Ministry and the Death Eaters Ron had been initiated into the circle of Death Eaters.   
  
Ron wasn't exactly sure of how Severus had discovered Angel and Rayven...only that they were doing something mostly illegal. In any case, Severus hadn't had time, so Draco trained Angel on behalf of the Ministry, and Ron had trained Rayven. It was rather ironic that he would be training her again.  
  
But everyone had agreed that it would be safer for Rayven to wait! Angel's family had a bit of a history with the dark arts, so not much was new for her. But Rayven, like Ron, came from a family of Light. It seemed like she had gone over Ron's head and paid Voldemort a visit anyway.  
  
Ron sighed. He was not comfortable with this situation. He silently wondered why in the world Rayven would still want to go through with it after what she had witnessed tonight. It was never too late to turn back until the Dark Mark was branded into your skin.  
  
"Ron?" Draco cut into Ron's thoughts.  
  
"Hmm?" Ron replied, looking over at Draco and studying him. He remembered not too long ago when he and Draco had been the worst of enemies. And now he was an ally, if not a friend.  
  
"I'm going to the Ministry, you go up to the castle."  
  
"I told I'd go," Ron muttered. "You're exhausted." Draco rolled his eyes, but it was true. He had spent a lot of his energy on whatever it was Voldemort had put him up to last night.  
  
"Potter and Granger will suspect if you're not back soon. I can do it."  
  
"Well, if you're sure..." Ron muttered uneasily.  
  
"I will be fine." Draco insisted. He flashed a sardonic grin that didn't reach his eyes, and lifted his left hand. His first and middle finger were crossed. Ron flashed that same, ironic grin. Crossing...a joke between them. Their lives were nothing but double-crossing both sides of the war.  
  
As Draco disappeared, Ron trudged back up to the castle.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Ron, where were you last night?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Around," Ron shrugged.  
  
"Around?" Harry frowned.   
  
"Yeah," Ron replied. He hated lying, but he had become exceptionally good at it. Practice makes perfect, they say. "I mean, it was our last night here, and I just wandered around. Kinda saying goodbye to the castle you would say."  
  
"I understand." Hermione smiled, satisfied. Harry gave Ron a curious glance, but didn't press the subject.  
  
"And anyway, Hermione, why are you grilling me?" Ron joked. "Shouldn't you be practicing your speech or something?"  
  
Hermione, of course, had been valedictorian...as if anyone had expected anything else. She was also Head Girl, and Harry was Head Boy. No surprises there. And also, of course, they were a couple.  
  
The perfect couple.  
  
Ron shook his head, as if this would shake his jealousy away. Harry and Hermione didn't deserve anyone but each other. Ron didn't deserve a smile like that from anyone else. He didn't deserve whatever that feeling was that made them glow.  
  
Death Eaters cannot love.  
  
The three went down to the lawn where the graduation ceremony was to be held. Ron tried to laugh and talk. He tried so hard to act like nothing was wrong; like they were the same three innocent friends they were seven years ago. He tried to banish the guilt and secrets.  
  
But Ron could not banish away the ghosts in his eyes of the hell he had seen.  
  
Wouldn't you know it, Harry was perceptive. Hermione was observant, but observation only goes so far. But Harry...Harry knew something was wrong. Harry had known something was wrong for a long, long time. He knew that Ron's laugh was not what he had heard after Draco Malfoy became a bouncing ferret. Harry knew his best friend had changed. But how?  
  
They seated themselves with the other Gryffindors, and Ron felt his stomach tighten. This was it. After seven years, he was graduating Hogwarts. He was leaving the place he had called home since he was eleven.  
  
Ron looked down the row of graduating students, all twitching nervously. What he wouldn't give to be one of them. To be ignorant and innocent still. Harry had faced Voldemort, yes, but he didn't know half the horrors of his circle. Ron's eyes traveled down, examining the people he had been living with for all these years. Oh, to be one of them!  
  
Well, not any of them. He caught Draco's eye, and smiled grimly. Draco seemed to be thinking the same things. Ron could read it in his eyes.  
  
Oh my god, Ron thought, I think I'm friends with Draco Malfoy.  
  
Odd, that this was the hardest time of Ron's young life, and he was sharing it with his ex-worst enemy instead of the two loyal friends sitting beside him. But Harry and Hermione would never understand. They just couldn't understand why Ron had become a Death Eater. Little did they know, he was protecting them. He, Draco, and Severus had prevented 32 attempts on Harry's life over the last year, and Ron had even prevented a few on Hermione's. After all, she was not only a Mudblood, but Harry's life.  
  
Mudblood. Ron shook his head; I'm tossing around the word 'Mudblood' as if it means nothing.  
  
Dumbledore stood up and made a speech. He then began to call names, beginning with 'Abbot, Hannah'.   
  
Ron and Harry cheered like wild when Hermione was called. She blushed, mumbling a thank you when she received her diploma from Professor Dumbledore. Ron watched Ernie MacMillan swagger to Dumbledore with mounting dislike. The Ministry would have him before the end of the week: Draco had told them everything.  
  
Speaking of Draco...his name was called. Ron had to refrain from cheering, but couldn't help grinning. He knew what Draco had gone through to graduate...juggling two lives. He knew because he had gone through the same thing.  
  
Harry, by far, got the loudest cheer of all. Ron felt a pang of wistful jealousy. He wished he could receive that kind of welcome. He wished he could be appreciated for fighting the Dark Lord.   
  
But Ron didn't fight Voldemort openly. Ron was a Death Eater. Ron was a spy.  
  
Ron hated his life.  
  
He watched Lisa Turpin with mixed emotions. He knew that under there somewhere was a wonderful person: charming and funny. But he also knew that on her left arm was the mark of the Devil himself. Why had Lisa turned?  
  
Finally, 'Weasley, Ronald' was called. As he numbly approached Dumbledore, hearing the cheers from his friends, Ron remembered when he had been called to be sorted. Where had that innocent child gone?  
  
He accepted the diploma, and found sympathy in Dumbledore's blue eyes. He knew, and the Minister knew. A select few members of the Department of Mysteries knew.  
  
Knew Ron was a traitor.  
  
Ron looked over at Harry and Hermione, grinning and screaming and flailing their arms, and tried to smile at them. He didn't deserve them as friends. His eyes traveled to the Slytherins, where he saw Draco smile. Well, at least when Harry and Hermione found out, there would be Draco.  
  
What was he SAYING?!  
  
Ron returned to his seat, thoughts reeling through his mind. Dumbledore called the valedictorian up for her speech to wild applause. Ron couldn't help smiling: Hermione deserved this. She deserved this honor she had worked so hard for. She deserved all the glory: this was HER hour.  
  
"Fellow students, teachers, and friends," Hermione began smiling. "It has been an unbelievable journey..."  
  
Hermione's aura made everyone sit a little straighter. She talked about her years at Hogwarts, and the lessons she had learned. She talked about being Muggle-born, and facing prejudice.   
  
"...And if there's one thing I've learned here, it's the importance of not just knowing right from wrong, but choosing what's right..."  
  
Suddenly, Ron didn't like Hermione's speech. She didn't understand. Hermione had no idea...  
  
Sometimes the lines of right and wrong weren't that clear! Sometimes following the right path requires doing the wrong thing. Sometimes you have to end one life to save another. Sometimes...  
  
Ron stopped his rambling thoughts in their tracks. No, not sometimes. Never...or virtually so. Severus, Draco, Angel, and Rayven were the only people he knew that would understand what he was thinking and why.   
  
"...Good luck to you all!" Ron was snapped out of his drifting thoughts by the wild applause that followed the conclusion of Hermione's speech. He stood and cheered alongside Harry, feeling treacherous.   
  
Afterward, the now graduated seventh years went into the Great Hall for the End of the Year Feast...and their last meal at Hogwarts. Ron ate with Harry and Hermione, happily celebrating Gryffindor's seventh House Cup running. For a single, blissful hour, he felt like the same old Ron Harry and Hermione knew.  
  
Then they went down to the train platform, where the younger years departed with delight, and the seventh years said goodbye. Well, they weren't really seventh years anymore, were they? They were qualified witches and wizards. Slowly but surely, Ron watched as the people he had known for so long literally disappeared with a soft *pop*.  
  
"Well...I guess this is goodbye," Hermione said sadly to her two best friends.  
  
"It's not forever, 'Mione," Harry said, smiling sadly.  
  
"I know but..." She turned away, and Ron knew she was crying.  
  
"Don't cry!" He and Harry insisted in unison. She turned back to them, laughing softly through her tears.  
  
"I already miss Hogwarts." She said, smiling.  
  
"So do I," Harry replied. Ron nodded his compliance.  
  
"Oh, come here!" She cried, throwing her arms around them and pulling them into a group hug. Ron felt himself choking up. Where did he get friends like this?  
  
"Well...see ya," Harry muttered.  
  
"Yeah, bye," Ron mumbled, his ears rather red.  
  
"Goodbye," Hermione said, beginning to cry again. And with one last hug, they all disapparated.   
  
Ron didn't disapparate to the flat he had bought with the money the Ministry paid him. Instead, he apparated to a small building in London...Reed Girl's Academy for the Magical Arts, where Angel and Rayven went to school.  
  
The two girls were saying goodbye to their friends. They were both, from what Ron could tell, crying. He rolled his eyes. What is it with girls crying at graduations?  
  
"Ron?" Angel asked when her friends had disapparated and she spotted the red-haired man leaning against a tree.  
  
"Hey," He smiled. "Where's Rayven?"  
  
"Ron, what are you doing here?" Rayven herself asked.  
  
"Rayven, just the girl I wanted to see!" Ron exclaimed. "We're going out tonight."  
  
"Out?" She asked suspiciously. "Out where?"  
  
"To a little pub I know where we can...talk." He said, and both girls knew immediately what he was referring to.  
  
"Well, I'd better go," Angel said to break the silence that had descended upon them all.   
With a goodbye to Rayven and a nod to Ron, she disapparated.  
  
"Where are we going again?" Rayven asked with a frown.  
  
"The Hanged Man." Ron replied. "Just apparate to Little Hangleton, and we'll get there."  
  
And so, the two newly graduated friends-by-default apparated into the night.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron did not really know any of the Death Eaters personally other than his fellow spies and the five he'd seen initiated. However, Draco knew everyone worth knowing. It was Draco who informed Ron of the 'bonfire'.  
  
At the beginning of each month, a swarm of Death Eaters would get together and, just for the hell of it, terrorize a Muggle village. Why they called it the 'bonfire' was beyond Ron, who had never been to one. Draco seemed uneasy to discuss it. It's not like there were marshmallows and camp songs involved or anything.  
  
Ron smiled. He had suddenly had a vision of all seventy some Death Eaters sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows as Voldemort led them in a round of 'Kumbaya, my Lord'.  
  
Or not.  
  
The bonfire for the month of July was to be held in a little village called North Brooke in Kent. Ron was invited to come along with Draco, even though none of the Death Eaters would know if he was there because they all hid under their masks like the cowards they were. And, because Ron was now training her, he decided to bring Rayven along.  
  
For three weeks Ron had been avoiding showing Rayven any hard-core Death Eater activity. In his mind she was too young, to fragile...even though in reality she was hardly six months younger. But still, she retained her innocence in a way she didn't even know.  
  
"Where are we going tonight?" Rayven groaned when Ron apparated to her flat almost on the border of Wales.  
  
"Anxious for anywhere in particular?" He grinned. Well, Ron didn't really grin anymore...it was just an action. What was there to be happy about in this world anyway?  
  
"Just something other than this tedious talk, talk, talk, talk, TALK!" She exclaimed, sounding rather frustrated.  
  
"Well, there will be no talking tonight," He snapped.  
  
"There won't?" She replied.  
  
"No..." Ron sighed. He continued grimly, "Get your mask on, we're going out with some friends.  
  
Suddenly, Rayven didn't seem eager to pass the 'talking' stage.  
  
  
It was Richie Hanger's seventh birthday. He and practically all the children in town were running around with sparklers in the Hangers' backyard. Dusk was falling, and fireflies were darting in between the sparkling lights of the squealing children. Lawrence and Pamela Hanger watched their son play with smiles on their faces, along with several other parents who had come to collect the children, but didn't have the heart to interfere with their childhood joy. Everything was perfect in North Brooke on the breezy evening in July. Until...  
  
A scream.  
  
Thirty cloaked figures surrounded the yard, and jets of light streamed from them. Pamela Hanger was the first to fall under the green curse of death. Rayven looked around in horror as the Death Eaters spread throughout the yard of terrified children.  
  
Children! These were innocent, harmless Muggle children, not one over nine years of age! She felt her knees weaken as she saw a little boy cry for his mother just before death. She watched in shock and rage a black-cloaked figure put a young girl under the Cruciatus Curse. The figure cackled as the child screamed and not relenting until she was clearly dead. What were these creatures torturing these innocent children?  
  
Those 'creatures' were what she was to become.  
  
Shuddering she pulled out her wand, looking at it in a new light. She had never realized all the damage she could inflict on human souls with this. She had used Dark spells on spiders and the like, sure. And she had been put under two of the three Unforgivables. But she had never, ever really realized what she had the power to do in her hands.  
  
Other Death Eaters were beginning to look at her questioningly. She looked out at the wave of black robes and curse jets. That figure killing the child holding his dead friend could not be Ron, right? That one holding a mother under the Imperious Curse and forcing her to kill her own daughter could not be Draco. That one approaching the father crying for his screaming daughter could not be Angel.  
  
Suddenly, she saw one child running toward her. She automatically raised her wand. She contemplated 'stupefy' but knew she would have to kill him. Still, when she got to him, she hesitated. Swallowing down the urge to help the child with pleading brown eyes she raised her wand...  
  
And the boy disappeared.  
  
Rayven felt her eyes widen. Where had he gone? She spun around to see him behind her, looking down at his own hands in shock. And that's when Rayven knew.  
  
This child was a wizard. A Muggle born wizard.  
  
Before she could react to this discovery, the child started to run away. Right into the path of another Death Eater. One quick flash of green was all it took.  
  
Rayven watched as the boy known as Richard Hanger fell to the ground, dead. She looked up and saw a pair of blue eyes behind the mask of his murderer.  
  
Familiar blue eyes.  
  
Soon, all the Muggles were dead, and the Death Eaters shot the Dark Mark into the sky. Then one of them, Rayven couldn't tell which, raised his wand and shot a burst of orange light from it. The house and grounds burnt into ashes, but as the smoke cleared, Rayven was horrified to see that the bodies were untouched.  
  
She disapparated with the others, the vision of seven adults and nearly twenty children lying dead the black remnants of a beautiful home burning into her mind.  
  
  
"I'll go to the Ministry," Angel volunteered. Ron was glad someone had finally broken the uncomfortable silence. Only Draco had previously been to a bonfire, and he looked just as shaken as the rest.  
  
"All right..." Draco sighed. "I need to get back to the Manor. My father- " He spat the word, "Will be wondering where I am."  
  
"I think Rayven needs some time," Ron said quietly, taking her hand and leading her to a bench in the park they had apparated to. She was shaking.  
  
"How could this happen?" She asked in a voice as shaky as the rest of her.  
  
"It's what Death Eaters do," Ron replied sadly.  
  
"Death Eaters like you?" She snapped accusingly.  
  
"And like you," He replied, looking at her with unwavering blue eyes. She looked away, starting to cry.  
  
"Did you...did you kill anyone tonight?" She asked uneasily.  
  
"Yes," He replied, feeling a lump in his throat. You would think he was used to it by now, but no. Every murder was like the first to Ronald Weasley.  
  
Well, almost anyway.  
  
"Was it a boy with brown eyes and dusty blonde hair and freckles?" She asked, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
"Yes...how did you know?" Ron asked, his eyes widening.  
  
"I took a wand to him myself, but he somehow disappeared and then reappeared behind me," Rayven explained in a monotonous tone. "I think he was a wizard."  
  
"A Mudblood?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.   
  
"How can you just throw that word around?" She demanded. Ron sighed.  
  
"Look, Rayven, I'm sorry if it offends you. One of my very best friends is Muggle born, and Draco used to call her a Mudblood I would try to kill him, but...but it's different now."  
  
"Because you're a Death Eater?"  
  
"Right."  
  
Rayven put her head in her hands. "Will I be different?" She whispered.  
  
Ron pulled her into a hug, telling her without words that someone was there. He didn't respond to her question because she already knew the answer.  
  
Rayven cried herself to sleep.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Well, the date's set," Rayven said grimly as she sat down across from Ron.  
  
"The date?" Ron asked.  
  
"For my initiation..." She replied, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, right," He replied, sighing. For no particular reason, it seemed that he had been distracted lately. He tried to smile at her.  
  
Rayven was a beautiful girl, no one would doubt that. She had sleek deep chocolate hair that looked auburn in the light, which fell pleasantly around her shoulders, and exotic hazel eyes. She was about medium height, thin, with curves in all the right places. Sometimes Ron thought she looked angelic, and sometimes she looked demonic.  
  
Odd.  
  
"Aren't you going to ask me what the date is?" Rayven asked with a sigh.  
  
"Huh?" Ron asked. "Oh, yeah. When?" He asked when she gave him a look.  
  
"July 31," She replied. Ron frowned. That date seemed familiar to him. Did he have plans? He racked his brains, but nothing but the nagging feeling that there was something happening that day surfaced.  
  
"You are coming, right?" She asked.  
  
"Of course," He replied. She sighed.  
  
"Thanks,"  
  
"No problem." They ate their meal and talked as if they were real friends instead of coworkers in the Death Eater spy business. Ron liked Rayven, the real Rayven, the ambitious, charming girl behind her unique golden eyes.  
  
They said goodbye, and made plans for their last meeting before Rayven officially joined the Death Eaters. Ron shuddered. He did not like to think of innocent Rayven as what he was.  
  
Ron went back to his flat and wrote a letter to home, and got several chores done. The odd thing about being a spy was even though you worked weird hours you got the others off. Mrs. Weasley was starting to think her son might just be a layabout. A valid fear, considering she didn't know about his real life.  
  
After a nap and a quick shower, he changed and apparated to Harry's flat for dinner. Hermione and Ginny would also be there.  
  
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, smiling at his best friend. Hermione came in and gave her friend a hug, also smiling. Ron tried to smile back...he really did. But how do the damned smile in the face of the blessed?  
  
"Is Ginny here yet?" He asked. Ron had seen very little of his family since Christmas.  
  
"Ron!" He was answered by Ginny running up to her brother in delight. He gave her a bear hug, as if she were six instead of sixteen.  
  
"How's it going, kid?" He asked her teasingly.  
  
"Oh, shut up you!" She said, sticking her tongue out. "I'm seventeen in August."  
  
"Lord, I feel old!" He joked. Harry, Hermione and Ginny laughed.   
  
"Come on," Hermione said. "Dinner's on the table."  
  
The four had a delightful dinner, prepared Muggle-style by Hermione herself. There were several compliments to the chef. Even Ron was having a difficult time finishing the cheesecake. The meal was full of laughter and animated conversation. Ron felt more alive than he had in months.  
  
"Okay, we have an announcement to make," Hermione said, looking over at Harry.  
  
"What kind of announcement?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked over at Ginny, who seemed to be as clueless as he was.  
  
"Well..." Hermione said, looking at Harry. She seemed to be bursting with...something.  
  
"We're going to get married," Harry said.  
  
"What?" Ron asked, after several moments of stunned silence.  
  
"Oh my God, congratulations!" Ginny squealed, running over to hug Hermione. "Let me see the ring!" Blushing like crazy, Hermione pulled out her hand to reveal a simple, yet elegant diamond ring.  
  
Now Ron knew what Hermione was bursting with. Happiness. Ron wondered what it was like to be filled with that much joy. Over the last few months, he had nearly forgotten what the word meant.  
  
Ron shook himself mentally. This was no time for self-pity.  
  
"Harry, you rascal!" He exclaimed, jumping up and shaking hands with his best friend. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"You two are the first to know," Hermione explained. "Because I want you, Ginny, to be my maid of honor."  
  
"Me?" Ginny asked, looking sincerely surprised. Her friend nodded. "Hermione, I would be honored."  
  
"And I want you to be my best man," Harry said, smiling at Ron.  
  
"Wow...I can't believe you guys are getting married," Ron said. "This is fantastic! I've got to owl mum!"  
  
"I know, we're thrilled." Hermione blushed and looked over at Harry, who took her hand.  
  
"When?" Ginny asked in excitement.  
  
"I don't know, maybe when Harry gets out of auror training. We haven't set a date yet."  
  
"Oh that's right, you're going to be an auror, aren't you?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded.  
  
Weird, Ron thought. Just a year ago he had been considering becoming an auror, and now they were enemy number one. Ron suddenly felt sick to his stomach as he imagined Harry as 'enemy number one'.   
  
"Well, I certainly hope we all do this again before the Rehearsal Dinner," Ron said, throwing down his napkin.  
  
"Of course we will," Hermione said, giving him a funny look. "You are coming to Harry's birthday party?"  
  
"Birthday party?" Ron asked, "When's that?"  
  
"On my birthday..." Harry replied, raising an eyebrow. Ron frantically pulled out the contents of his memory. Harry's birthday...July, wasn't it? July, July, July.... Ron's eyes suddenly widened. July 31.  
  
The day of Rayven's initiation.   
  
"Harry..." Ron said, feeling very uncomfortable and extremely guilty. "I can't come."  
  
"What?" The other three all said in unison.  
  
"I'm really sorry, but I've got previous plans," He replied, looking down at his feet. What was he supposed to say: 'I have to go watch the girl I've been training to become a Death Eater actually go through with it and throw her life away'?  
  
Or not.  
  
"What previous plans?" Harry asked. Ron looked down at his watch.  
  
"I have to go," He said, striding out of the kitchen. The others exchanged a look, and Ginny went after him.  
  
"Ron," She began uneasily.  
  
"What?" He snapped, spinning around. She flinched.  
  
"I think you should explain to all of us,"  
  
"There's nothing to explain," Ron replied. "I've got plans."  
  
"You know how important this is to him!" She objected. "Can't you break your other plans or something?"  
  
"Not an option," Ron replied, putting on his traveling cloak.  
  
"Ron-"  
  
"This discussion is over, Ginny." Ron said fiercely. "Tell Hermione it was a wonderful dinner and I congratulate their engagement."  
  
And, without further ado, Ron disapparated.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Guilt. That was the only thing Ron felt as he apparated outside the castle-like structure of Voldemort's lair. Guilt about missing Harry's party, guilt about letting an innocent girl like Rayven go through with this torture, guilt about everything.  
  
Rayven apparated next to him only a few moments later. She looked at him, and he squeezed her hand. Neither was wearing a mask. No one but them would be here tonight.  
  
They entered, and immediately felt the cold pressing down on them. Rayven shivered, but Ron showed no emotion. He had clicked into a certain mode, the same way he did before every meeting with his master...before every murder.  
  
Voldemort was waiting for them. He watched with his snakelike eyes as they approached. Trying not to be sick, Ron handed Rayven to him.  
  
Handed her to the devil.  
  
He circled her, inspecting her up in down in a sickening manner. Then he suddenly whipped out his wand, and uttered the word Ron had been dreading but knew would come.  
  
"Crucio."  
  
She screamed and cried in agony. Ron watched, wanting to stop it, leave, scream, die and kill all at the same time. As he watched Voldemort's glee at her suffering he wanted to kill him. And at that moment, he knew that he could. Rage as he had never felt pumped through his veins. He could hear the blood in his ears, and the adrenaline surge through him as he watched the delicate figure crumple in torturous pain.  
  
No, he couldn't kill Voldemort. Voldemort owned him. There was nothing he could do but watch.  
  
Finally, he released her, and she struggled to her feet. Even though her body was weak and defeated, her eyes showed an even stronger conviction to go on. Determination to damn herself, Ron thought.  
  
Then, Voldemort went through the process of giving her the Dark Mark. Again, she was brought to her knees in agony when his mysterious magic made a permanent mark out of the crude flesh drawing. Finally satisfied, he let go and let her fall down.  
  
"I am finished." He hissed. Ron nodded. He then bent down and picked her up. Carrying her out of the God forsaken castle, he cursed Voldemort's name. Ron apparated to Angel's flat, where she and Draco were waiting for them.  
  
"How is she?" Angel asked, biting her lip. Ron laid her down on a couch. Draco immediately began muttering charms to fix her bloodied face and arm.  
  
"Ron?" Rayven asked groggily, looking around. She couldn't move. It hurt...everything hurt.  
  
"I'm here," He said, giving her a hug.  
  
"Draco? Angel?" She muttered.  
  
"Right here, honey," Angel replied, trying to smile. Underneath her heart was breaking for her friend.  
  
Draco gave her a twisted grin. Ron had seen that grin so many times in school, and he had hated it then. But now...but now he understood why Draco was the way he was. He looked down at her, and raised his crossed fingers.  
  
"Rayven, welcome to the Circle of the Two-Faced." 


	3. The Innercircle

A/N Okay, I knew I said I was going to wait for 10 reviews, but I think updating weekly is a better idea. Thank you to all of my reviewers so far! I love you guys! ^_^  
  
  
Chapter Two:  
The Innercircle  
  
  
~This is how you remind me of what I really am  
It's not like you say sorry, I was waiting on a different story  
This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking  
I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle  
These five words in my head scream "are we havin' fun yet?"~  
  
*Nickleback's "How You Remind Me"  
  
  
Odd that Ron still had time for such pastimes as chess, which had now become one of the more useless aspects of his life. Still, after doing the dishes and getting a solid five hours of sleep, he found himself itching for something to occupy his mind, and pulled out an old and new chess set. He set them up and sat down to play chess with himself.  
  
White always goes first in chess. Ron moved a pawn.  
  
This was just like real life, Ron mused with a cold smile. The Light Side always made the first move, even if they didn't realize it. The Dark would wait, patiently formulating a plan as the Light tried desperately to stop it.  
  
But which side was Ron on? While switching strategies, this thought crossed his mind. Was Ron really working for the Ministry? While it was true that Ron risked everything to go to them, he still did everything his master commanded.  
  
From an onlooker's point of view, he was working for both sides at once.  
  
The problem was most of the time Ron felt like he wasn't really himself. Surely he was not this monster, this killer that possessed the red-haired young man he saw in the mirror? But Ron knew he was, knew it was his hand that raised the wand, knew it was his mouth that uttered the words.  
  
That did not answer the question. Which side? The Light benefited greatly from Ron's two-faced life, but it seemed to him that the Dark still got the lion's share. Ron had killed aurors and Mudbloods and other such nuisances, and it seemed to him that killing for one side was more productive than the other side knowing who was killed.  
  
The game was getting ruthless now. Pieces flew everywhere, the chessman seeming to absorb Ron's rage and take it out on the others. Ron watched as the black knight took a white pawn with ruthless satisfaction. Ron was that knight...except that he was working for the white king.  
  
The problem was, even if the knight didn't kill the king, he would eventually destroy all   
the other pieces, leaving the other black pieces to take the king.  
  
Ron remembered being a knight on the way to the sorcerer's stone. Had they been black or white? He couldn't remember. He honestly didn't know which side they had been on.  
  
Ron moved the white rook, nodding with approval. He had the black king pinned in one more move. Ron looked at it from the Dark point of view, trying to find a glitch.  
  
He felt his eyes widen. There, staring him in the face. An obvious, OBVIOUS error. Sighing, Ron moved the black queen.  
  
"Checkmate." He muttered. The Dark Side had won.  
  
As if Voldemort somehow knew what had happened, Ron felt his Mark begin to burn. Wincing slightly, he apparated to his lair.  
  
The wind was cold, and the sun hid behind the clouds. Ron scowled. He wondered if Voldemort had a spell on the perimeter so it was always dreary and freezing.  
  
Oh well, at least it wasn't snowing yet.  
  
He was just about to go in when he heard a pop from behind him. Whipping around, he saw Rayven approaching.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Ron demanded.  
  
"Probably the same thing you are," She replied, rolling her eyes. Ron scowled. Honestly, did she have to be such a smart ass all the time?  
  
They went down into the castle in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. However, they were both wondering the same thing. 'What did he want this time, and why is she (or, in Rayven's case, he) with me?'  
  
"Ah, you are here," Voldemort said as they entered. They both bowed low to the ground.  
  
"Weasley, I hear rumors of an ambassador from the French ministry coming over to talk with Dumbledore." The Dark Lord said without preamble. "I want him dead. Take Michaels to assist you. With that kind of security, you will need a lookout."  
  
"Yes my Lord," Ron replied. What, was Voldie trying to give him a partner? That guy got weirder every day!  
  
"I want him dead before sunrise. Go!" Rayven and Ron turned immediately away at their Master's words. Once outside, Ron looked at her.  
  
"Your flat or mine?"  
  
"That sounds interesting, Mr. Weasley," She joked.  
  
"You know what I meant." Ron growled. He was in no mood for jokes. She sighed.  
  
"Yours, I suppose."  
  
"Very well," They popped into the newly cleaned kitchen of the small flat just outside London.  
  
"Nice place." Rayven nodded approvingly. She had never actually been inside Ron's apartment.  
  
"Thanks," He muttered, his ears going slightly red. There was a moment of awkward silence.  
  
"Any idea where this bloke is?" Rayven asked.  
  
"Not at Hogwarts, I hope." Ron replied.  
  
"What bloke?" A new voice asked. They whirled around to face the grate in the living room, and saw Draco Malfoy grinning cheekily at them.  
  
"The French Ambassador." Ron replied professionally, crossing the room swiftly with his long legs and sitting in an armchair facing the fire.  
  
"Oh, that LaMarc chap?" Draco asked. "Well, I believe he's staying at the house of the official ambassador...you know, the one with the Ministry. He's going to see Dumbledore tomorrow. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Business." Ron replied shortly. Draco nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. "Rayven!" He exclaimed, seeing her for the first time. "What are you doing there?"  
  
"I'm with him," She muttered, blushing at the suggestive wink that accompanied Draco's statement.  
  
"Really now?" He asked devilishly.  
  
"We're partners now, okay?" Ron snapped. "What are you so happy about anyway?"  
  
"The Dark Lord's pissed at my father. It's absolutely hilarious!" Draco replied, shrugging. Ron rolled his eyes. What a messed up household he lived in. Ron sighed, not wanting to breakdown the issues of the Malfoy family. He could never list them in a lifetime.  
  
"Okay, Draco, where is the Ambassador's house?" He asked, just wanting to get LaMarc killed and go back to sleep. He suddenly felt very tired.  
  
"45 Chestnut Drive," The blonde replied promptly. Ron gave him a funny look. "What?" Draco asked innocently.  
  
"You sound like you've been there before."  
  
"I have."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Business."  
  
"Oh." And with that, the conversation stopped. Ron knew Draco was a thief, stealing important papers, and on occasion important people, from various organizations. Draco was the only on of the 'Circle of the Two-Faced', as he had so appropriately christened them, who was in the Innercircle of Voldemort's most trusted advisors. Meaning Draco was Voldemort's top thief and the one who dealt most directly for attacks on a certain boy who lived.  
  
"Well, we had better go," Rayven said uncomfortably through the silence. Both boys seemed lost in their own thoughts, and she did not like the looks on their faces.  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, shaking his head. "Goodbye Draco."  
  
"Bye." The head, along with the fire, disappeared with a pop, leaving the other two feeling very cold all of a sudden.  
  
"Well...we'll apparate to my old school." Rayven started. "That's not far from Chestnut."  
  
"Go home, I'll meet you there at midnight." He instructed. With a nod, she disapparated. Ron sighed, leaned back in his chair, and fell asleep.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chestnut Drive was silent. Which wasn't hard to believe, considering it was barely morning and this was a rather posh neighborhood. Ron and Rayven glided like the night down the street until they reached number 45. Ron realized with no mirth that it was a French-style home.  
  
"What defenses are up?" He asked Rayven. She had taken a course on that type of thing at Reed, although it was really Angel's area of expertise. She could pick out most defense spells just by looking at a structure.  
  
"Only anti-alahomora charms," Rayven replied, shaking her head. "Pathetic."  
  
It did not take the two specialized murderers long to get into the house. Ron instructed Rayven to wait on the bottom floor and wait for a surprise attack. After all, Voldemort had said something about 'that kind of security'. Ron smirked.  
  
This was too easy.  
  
However, as he approached the door, he was no longer smirking at all. He was numb. He was in that mode, Death Eater mode, where nothing mattered. All that mattered was fulfilling his master's wishes.  
  
The powerful Black Queen was, once again, capturing the weak White King.   
  
He slipped into the first room, and looked around. He snooped in the drawers, making sure he had the right guy. He quickly discovered a passport with the 'Eric LaMarc' under the name. Smiling coldly, he turned to the man lying in bed.  
  
"Avada Kedavra." Ron commanded softly. A blast of green light silently proclaiming death rushed upon the sleeping Frenchman. He was dead without ever waking up.  
  
Alarms started going off all around him. Dark alarms, just like in Hogwarts.  
  
"Shit," Ron spat, flying down the stairs. Usually, he would've just apparated, but he had Rayven to think about. Damn Voldemort for giving him a partner.  
  
Suddenly, less then a second later, the alarms ceased, before the other ambassador even thought about waking up.  
  
When he got downstairs, wondering what in the hell was going on, he found Rayven waiting for him. She had a very smug grin indeed plastered on her face.  
  
"How in the he-"  
  
"Now, now, Mr. Weasley, watch your language." She said. Ron looked at her in wonder. How could she be so damn flirtatious on Death Eater duty?  
  
"Let's go," He said. They went outside, looking up at the house, which looked no different from the outside. Ron felt a lump forming in his throat.  
  
Another innocent life stolen by Ron Weasley the assassin.  
  
That still sounded foreign to his ears, after nearly a year. A year. Ron had been killing for a year in August. That was just disgusting.  
  
He tried to imagine Severus, who worked on mass murder. Poor guy. Guilt was not a fun thing.  
  
Rayven put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked down at her, his emotions crying out from his eyes. He looked down into her hazel orbs, and saw the same thing. Hell. Her damned soul, soiled by death and guilt. He realized that she felt the same way he did.  
  
"Morsmodre," She whispered, tearing her eyes from his and pointing her wand at the sky. The skull, which Ron had once feared, now inspired a sick sense of pride.  
  
Oh Lord in Heaven, Ron thought in torment, I am a Death Eater.  
  
Guilt overtaking him, he apparated back to his flat. He closed his eyes and felt himself shaking. He put a hand out on the back of an armchair to steady himself.  
  
"Are you going to be okay?" A familiar, tender voice asked him. He turned around and saw Rayven, though her face was bleary. Good Lord, were those tears?  
  
"What are you doing here?" He asked, trying to sound intimidating but only coming off as miserable.  
  
"You need help," She said quietly, taking his arm.  
  
"No," He protested weakly as she led him into his room. "I'm fine. I'm an adult now."  
  
"Hush," Rayven commanded in a motherly fashion. She laid him on his bed and pulled the covers up. Ron felt like a child again.  
  
"Goodnight Rayven," He muttered, dozing off even as he said the words. Usually his nights were spent awake, tossing and turning with guilt. But not tonight.  
  
"'Night," Rayven said, even though his deep breaths told her he was already asleep. She hesitated for a moment, and then kissed his forehead.  
  
"Sweet dreams," She whispered as she apparated home, wondering what she had just done.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron woke up almost as soon as Rayven had disapparated. Damn it, she had made him forget! He had to go to the Ministry and report all that had just happened.  
  
Many more slips like this, and he would be a real Death Eater.  
  
He kicked off the covers, cursing under his breath. As he disapparated he wondered why she had helped him, and why he hadn't objected. Ron didn't like being taken care of anymore. Why hadn't it bothered him when it was Rayven who acted like a mother?  
  
Ron shook off his thoughts as he arrived in front of the main Ministry building. He marched inside, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  
  
The hallways were nearly deserted, and certainly darker than during normal work hours. He didn't run into anyone as his feet unconsciously led his almost sleeping form up to the fifth floor. He came to a well-guarded door. He dug for his wand and muttered a few deactivation spells, then typed a password into a small panel on his left. He went through this process at several doors before finally reaching his destination.  
  
Bode and Croaker were still wide-awake, playing poker and swapping stories, like they did every night. However, they stood immediately as they heard their office door open and Ronald Weasley stumbled through.  
  
The two men immediately rushed to help their undercover counterpart. Ron looked dead on his feet.  
  
"Good God, man!" William Croaker exclaimed. "What have you been drinking?"  
  
"Very funny, Bill," Ron replied, sounding unamused.  
  
"Cheer up," Dennis Bode said, trying to smile and handing the poor young man a butterbeer. "That oughta warm you up."  
  
"You look like you've been to Hell and back," Bill said in concern.  
  
"I have." Ron replied flatly. Neither of the Unspeakables argued. They knew, at least from a direct first-hand tale, what being a Death Eater was like.  
  
"What happened?" Dennis asked, fishing around for paper and ink.  
  
"I killed Eric LaMarc." Ron replied, rubbing his face with his hand.  
  
"Ouch." Bill said, cringing somewhat.  
  
"Dumbledore's not going to be too happy about this." Dennis muttered.  
  
"Tell me about it." Ron replied, taking a swig of butterbeer.  
  
"Any information on why?" Bill muttered, reading over Dennis's shoulder as he scribbled information.  
  
"Well, he was going to talk to Dumbledore!" Ron replied. "What more reason do you want?"  
  
"Point taken," Dennis said, finishing his notes with a flourish and setting down his quill. "In any particular hurry to get home kid?"  
  
Ron shook his head. He was miserable. He always felt this way after a murder for Voldemort.  
  
"Then stay a while," Bill said kindly. He and Dennis were two of the highest paid Unspeakables. They had seen it all. However, even they had never had the guts to do what this kid, along with the other four, did every night. "Up for a game of rummy?  
  
Ron spent the next few hours playing rummy and poker with Bill Croaker and Dennis Bode.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron went home for dinner on the last day of August. The family was saying goodbye to Ginny before she left for Hogwarts. Ron didn't miss his parent's teary eyes...their youngest child, now seventeen, was going to her final year of school. Ron got a little choked up as he hugged her goodbye. He wouldn't be seeing her until Christmas or Harry's wedding, which ever came first.  
  
A new school year was commencing. It occurred to Ron that it had officially been a year since he became a spy. Or a Death Eater, which ever you prefer...they were the same in Ron's eyes.  
  
More murders, more lies, more agony. Time went on for the Circle of the Two-Faced. Yet somehow, as September threatened to give way to October, they found themselves pulling through. The four did things together, sometimes even daring to laugh. Somehow they had become friends...a tight-knit group of four close friends who did everything together.  
  
Weird. I'm friends with Draco Malfoy. Really, really weird, Ron thought.  
  
The four usually just had dinner, but they set a date in early October to go shopping in Knockturn Alley. All four had something or other they needed for some secret evil plan of Voldie's.  
  
They apparated to Angel's flat, which she had cleaned even though the other three were only going to see it for a few moments. Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"Women," He muttered.  
  
"What?" Angel asked innocently.  
  
"Why did you clean?" Draco asked, looking around with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Why do you care?" She retorted. Draco shook his head. He looked over at Ron in a look that clearly said 'Women' right back.  
  
"I'm here!" Rayven announced, apparating with a smile that was way too cheery for a Death Eater.  
  
"You're late!" Angel cried with mock dramatics.  
  
"I am not!" Rayven cried, pretending it was a matter of her dignity.  
  
"You are 30 seconds late, madam!" Angel declared triumphantly.  
  
"Well, it's not like I'm the last one here!" She cried. "Oh, wait..." She looked at the smirking faces of Ron and Draco, who were very amused by this little conversation. "You guys suck!" She exclaimed. Ron laughed.  
  
"If you two sit and bicker all day the good shops will be closed." Draco said professionally. With a nod, the four disapparated.  
  
"Ugh," Rayven said, crinkling her nose at her first glimpse of Knockturn Alley. Ron was inclined to agree, as neither of them had been there before. Angel and Draco were already strolling down the dark and dirty alley, chattering like schoolgirls with fresh gossip.  
  
"Hey, are you coming or what?" Angel demanded, as she and Draco spun around after realizing they had lost two of their number. Ron cautiously took a step into the foreboding alley, looking as if he'd rather enter a Hungarian Horntail den.  
  
"I know the feeling," Rayven muttered after seeing the look on Ron's face.  
  
"C'mon!" Draco demanded, tapping his foot impatiently. "What is your problem, anyway?"  
  
"Nothing," Ron mumbled once he and Rayven had caught up with the other two.  
  
"Now," Angel said, "I need to stop at Gungon's Bookshop for a certain spellbook..."  
  
The four set off in search of what they needed, with Draco and Angel happily pointing out the nastier shops to their two Light-family companions. They looked around, both feeling rather queasy as they viewed a display of banshee toenails. Draco and Angel seemed to be in their element in the narrow winding street of Dark Magic. Ron suddenly realized with a pang that this was his element as well.  
  
The found themselves in front of Borgin and Burkes. As they went inside, Ron got a strange feeling of familiarity.  
  
"Hey!" He suddenly exclaimed as the little bell signaled their arrival. "This is where Harry was!"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Angel asked, frowning.  
  
"Back in second here Harry floo-ed here on accident." Ron explained enthusiastically. "He meant to go to Diagon Alley, but wound up in here. Then you, Draco, and your father came in and Harry hid in that little thing right there." Ron pointed to a cupboard on their left. "He said you wanted to buy a hand of glory or something."  
  
"Potter was there?" Draco exclaimed, sounding offended. "Damn him!"  
  
"My words exactly, Mr. Malfoy, now what is it you are after today?" The four spun around to see Mr. Borgin himself bustle in, his usual oily façade in place.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Borgin," Draco said, and turned to the shopkeeper. After nearly twenty minutes Draco had chosen everything he wanted (the others weren't as interested in the shop's merchandise as he was), and he set down with the owner for some serious haggling.  
  
"Oh lord, we're going to be here for a while." Angel muttered.  
  
"What?" Rayven asked, looking up from a bewitched wedding ring.  
  
"Have either of you seen Draco bargain?" She asked in exasperation. "We'll be here all day."  
  
"I just want to get out of here!" Rayven whined.  
  
"Here, I'll go next door for some Potions ingredients I've been meaning to pick up. You two go over to Diagon and go...well...you guys know Diagon Alley better than me, so whatever floats your boat I guess." She said, smiling at them. They were obviously rather shell-shocked.  
  
"Yeah," Ron replied. He took Rayven's hand and led her out of the shop and down to the end of the alley as fast as his ridiculously long legs could take him.  
  
Ron took a deep breath of clean air as soon as they reached Diagon Alley, feeling Rayven do the same next to him. It was sunny, he realized. Chilly, but sunny.  
  
His mood considerably lightened, he grinned down at Rayven. She was looking dreamily around at the shops along the cobblestone street. It was then that Ron realized that he was still holding her hand.  
  
He didn't let go for reasons he could not, for the life of him, decipher.  
  
"Where to?" He asked.  
  
"I don't know...all this sun suggests ice cream." She replied.  
  
"Florean Fortescue's it is!" Ron declared, and led her down to the famous ice cream shop. Rayven laughed for absolutely no reason, and Ron realized something.  
  
He was happy.  
  
Happy? When did THAT happen? Ron hadn't been happy for a year. Suddenly he looked around and the sun was brighter and the cauldrons were shinier. He looked down at Rayven, who was radiating energy. Something about being on this old street, headed for ice cream in the sunshine...  
  
With Rayven...  
  
RAYVEN! Ron looked down at the skipping girl with wonder. Was she the one who was making him feel this way?  
  
No, that was impossible. Number One Death Eater Rule: No Love. It wasn't just a rule too, the magic Voldemort injected into your veins when he put the Dark Mark on to your arm made it impossible to be truly loved.  
  
But it did not, Ron realized, prevent you from loving.  
  
"Here we are!" Ron exclaimed a little too loudly, as his head was spinning in circles. Did he love her? Did that mean she couldn't love him back? Was this all the result of some sunlight after that confounded Knockturn Alley?  
  
"What will have, sir?" The man at the counter asked.  
  
"Um, fudge sundae," Ron replied, saying the first thing that popped into his mind. He wasn't paying attention to what Rayven ordered. He thought that ignoring her might make this odd feeling in his chest magically disappear.  
  
Magically...how ironic. Muggles could quite easily wish for things to 'magically' happen, but wizards even had to work to make things 'magically' happen.  
  
Oh dear. There he went again, on an anti-Muggle spree. The Death Eater inside was slowly but surely taking over the most basic aspects of Ron's life. He would have to work on that, he didn't find it one of his more attractive traits.  
  
They sat at one of the smaller tables under a colorful umbrella. Ron couldn't help but laugh when Rayven accidentally got ice cream on her nose. He had to fight the urge not to reach over and wipe it off.  
  
They got into a very interesting conversation about absolutely nothing. Books and Muggle art and Quidditch, which Rayven seemed only slightly more interested in than Hermione. They were just moving to Muggle candy versus wizard candy when a familiar voice interrupted them.  
  
"Ron! What are you doing here?" Ron looked up to see Harry, shortly followed by Hermione, come up behind them. "And who's the girl."  
  
"Uh, this is Rayven," Ron said, gesturing to the girl by his side. "Rayven this is Harry Potter and Hermione Granger-soon-to-be-Potter," Ron was a bit nervous about introducing them. After all, Rayven only heard about plans to kill them.  
  
"You're getting married!" She squealed enthusiastically, much to Ron's relief. "Congratulations!"   
  
"So, Harry, how about those Cannons?" Ron asked, desperate for a good Quidditch conversation. Harry jumped in enthusiastically.  
  
"Boys," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Tell me about it," Rayven smiled. "So, have you looked at flowers yet?"  
  
"Well, I was thinking about..." All four were in their element: Quidditch for the boys and weddings for the girls.  
  
"And man, did Vincon fly on that thing..."  
  
"Oh, that would be lovely!"  
  
"Did you see the way he got hit by that bludger right in the..."  
  
"I wish I could be there," Rayven said wistfully.  
  
"Well, Ron doesn't have a date," Hermione replied. "I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind another guest."  
  
"Really?" Rayven's face lit up, her golden eyes shining.  
  
"What about another guest?" Harry asked, tearing himself from a heated debate about the validity of referee calls at the Cannon's field.  
  
"Well, Rayven can come as Ron's guest, can't she?" Hermione asked, in a tone that told Harry 'it had better be okay or else, Potter'.  
  
"Of course, dear," He replied.  
  
"Speaking of Ron's date," Hermione continued, smiling devilishly. "Are you two a couple?"  
  
"Us?" They said at the same time.  
  
"We're, uh...coworkers!" Ron said, and Rayven had to hold back laughter. This should be interesting.  
  
"Coworkers?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were unemployed?"  
  
"Well, I do...er...odd jobs," Ron said sheepishly. What was he supposed to say? 'Gee, Harry, I'm a Death Eater. That's right, an assassin for Voldie himself. I'm part of a country club called Let's Kill the Scar-head. Yep, that's me, you're bestest buddy!'  
  
Or not.  
  
"We met when we were both hired by a friend of hers," Ron said quickly, seeing the questioning looks on Harry and Hermione's faces.  
  
"Who?" Hermione asked politely.  
  
"Uh..." Ron looked over at Rayven.  
  
"Draco Malfoy!" She exclaimed enthusiastically. Harry looked curiously at Ron, who glared at Rayven.  
  
"Actually, we were hired by Mrs. Malfoy," Ron said through gritted teeth. "Who is nothing but a-"  
  
"Wonderful lady," Rayven gushed, smiling widely.  
  
"Really?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow at Ron. "And what, exactly did Mrs. Malfoy hire you to do?"  
  
"Gardening!" Rayven exclaimed happily.  
  
"Yeah, weeds and stuff," Ron made a face. "Then that git Malfoy came over. God I hate him!" For a moment, this seemed to satisfy his best friends' curiosity, but then Rayven opened her big mouth...  
  
"Really?" She asked, looking over at Ron with a frown. "I thought you and Draco were friends. I mean you work so well together-"  
  
"Only during water fights," Ron said, trying desperately to make the faces of Harry and Hermione not so shocked. "Just because Dr...Malfoy and I kicked your ass at that water fight, doesn't mean you have to jump to conclusions."  
  
"You did NOT kick my ass!" Rayven objected. She seemed to be getting pretty worked up over something that never really happened. "Besides, you and Draco do all kinds of things together. Just last week you-"  
  
"Dumped you in that well in the Malfoy gardens?" Ron asked, grinning. Rayven's mouth dropped. "Well, just because we work together to make your life miserable..."  
  
"I TOLD you not to tell anyone about that!" She cried, playing her part very well. "You and Draco-"  
  
"Still tease you about it?" Yep, he was pissing her off royally. "Well, that happens."  
  
"Ron, if you don't shut up I swear to God..."  
  
"That you hate getting wet?" Ron asked.  
  
"Ugh!" Rayven cried, throwing her hands up in defeat as Ron smiled cockily. "You are terrible."  
  
"Well-" Ron was suddenly cut off by a searing pain in his left arm. He bit he lip to keep from crying out, and turned to Rayven. "I gotta go." He said, without further explanation.  
  
"What?" All three cried in unison.  
  
"Why?" Rayven demanded.  
  
"Business."  
  
"Business?"  
  
"Remember, that business I told you about..." Ron looked at Rayven meaningfully.  
  
"Oh...oh!" The second exclamation Harry could almost see an understanding pass between them. He suddenly felt jealous. Very jealous.  
  
"Well then, you'd better be on you're way!" Rayven exclaimed, standing up and helping Ron with his cloak a little too eagerly. "Ta ta!" And with a wave, Ron disapparated.  
  
"Where is he going?" Hermione asked Rayven curiously.  
  
"Um, some business," She replied, trying to stall.  
  
"What kind of business?" Harry asked, somewhat suspiciously.  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"RAYVEN!" They all spun around to see a blonde young man with long black robes come jogging up to them. "There you are, I've been looking all over for you and-" He frowned. "Where's Ron?"  
  
"He had to take care of some business." Rayven said shortly.  
  
"What kind of...oh." A look of realization dawned on him, and Harry felt his anger rise.  
  
"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Harry demanded standing up. Malfoy looked over at a very angry Harry and a very confused Hermione.  
  
"What are they doing here?" He asked Rayven, who sighed.  
  
"We just ran into them, now where's Angel?" She asked. From the looks on the faces of Harry and Draco, she would have to break up a fight between the two if she didn't change the subject.  
  
"She got caught up in some clothing store," Draco rolled his eyes. "Women,"  
  
"Well, we'd better go meet here. It's been nice talking to you, can't wait for the wedding!" Rayven said, waving to the very confused Harry and Hermione as she dragged Draco away mumbling.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron, for the millionth time in as many months, cursed the Dark Lord. What the hell could he want now? Jesus, Ron had been having fun for the first time in over a year, and then he got a sharp and rather painful reminder of reality.  
  
Rather painful? Ron snorted. That was the biggest understatement since 'Lockhart is rather fond of mirrors'.  
  
"Ah, Ronald," A hissing voice said, almost causing Ron to jump. However, he bowed deeply and kept himself in check.  
  
"I am at your command, Master."  
  
"You must have heard that the aurors killed MacNair, did you not?" Voldemort asked.  
  
"Yes, I did," Ron said, hardly able to refrain from asking what this had to do with anything. You never question Lord Voldemort. Never.  
  
"He was in my Innercircle, you know," Voldemort continued, absently flicking the end of his wand.  
  
"Yes, my Lord," Ron answered, unable to prevent some of his curiosity from seeping into his words.  
  
"That leaves a whole in the Innercircle...a rather large hole," Voldemort continued lazily. "He was our assassin, you know."  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Ron said, the words hurting to come out. His throat was suddenly like the Sahara desert. This conversation could only be leading to one thing.  
  
"You have been a very loyal servant, Ronald Weasley," The Dark Lord continued. Ron nearly laughed, although if he had it would've been cold and cynical. Loyal? Ron silently congratulated himself on his acting skills. "I need the Finnigans murdered. Tonight. Do the job, and be outside here before sunrise. I don't think I need to elaborate."  
  
"Yes, Master," Ron replied, his mind swirling with questions and thoughts. "When you say the Finnigans...do you want just Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan, or their son as well?" Ron prayed that he wouldn't have to kill Seamus. He didn't know if he could handle murdering one of his own dorm mates.  
  
"Kill the son if he's there, but if not don't go looking for him," Voldemort replied dismissively. Ron was disgusted by his lack of respect for human life. "Go."  
  
"Yes, Master." The Death Eater replied, bowing and making his exit. And with that, Ron apparated to his flat to prepare for tonight's excursion.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron crept, if the gliding nature of his movements would be considered creeping, to the Finnigan Estate. He paused only briefly at the entrance of the gate. God, this reminded him of home.  
  
But then, the Death Eater took over, and he confidently unlocked it and strutted inside.  
  
Ron carefully checked the rooms for signs of Seamus. It only occurred to him later that he really would've killed him without a second thought. At the moment, nothing mattered but getting the job done.  
  
His master could not be disappointed.  
  
The master bedroom was very well decorated, Ron noted. Both were asleep. Too easy.  
  
"Avada Kedavra," Ron whispered, pointing at the husband. He went silently. However, the sheer power of the curse awoke the light sleeper that was Mrs. Finnigan. Ron suddenly realized a mistake in his planning...Mrs. Finnigan was a witch, while her husband was a Muggle. It would've been much easier to do it the other way around.  
  
However, it didn't matter. Mrs. Finnigan didn't really have a chance. By the time she had recovered enough to grope for her wand, she had joined her husband in wherever they went after death. Ron only took a moment to ponder the existence of a Heaven and Hell before sweeping out of the room and back outside.  
  
"Morsmodre," He whispered, pointing his wand into the sky. A flash of green identical to that of his two previous spells formed the Dark Mark above the Finnigan home. Ron smiled coldly at his work. That smile held more regret and agony then any tear could hope to. He looked east and saw the faintest tints of orange. He apparated into oblivion, the sound of Ministry sirens just beginning to ring in his ears.  
  
"Did you finish the job?" Ron spun around to see Voldemort, boring holes into him with his snakelike eyes.  
  
"Of course, as you wished, my Lord," Ron replied.  
  
"Take off your mask, Ronald." He commanded. Ron obeyed without question. You never question Lord Voldemort.  
  
Suddenly, he heard popping noises around him. Nine figures, clothed in black but without the trademark masks, bowed to their master. Among them Ron recognized Draco and his father.  
  
"Gentlemen," The Dark Lord said. "I have found a replacement for MacNair." He gestured to Ron, who bowed. They did not even murmur. These were the number one servants of Voldemort, they did not doubt his authority and judgment. They should, Ron thought holding back a sardonic smile; two of the ten members of the Innercircle are spies.  
  
Voldemort was babbling about something. Ron wasn't really paying attention. He never did unless he had too...it was almost like back at Hogwarts.  
  
Now look at me, he thought, comparing Death Eater meetings to classes! How pathetic!  
  
Voldemort continued by questioning Ron's loyalty and the like, to which Ron replied correctly, not honestly. Then, just as the sun rose, Ron went under the Cruciatus Curse, just like at his original initiation. It was longer this time, Ron realized. When he was finally released he staggered to his feet.  
  
"Whom do you serve?" The Dark Lord asked, his voice even more of a hiss than usual.  
  
"You, my Lord," He gasped. His body was quivering, screaming in protest. He could feel blood trickling down his face. Collapse was not far off at this point.  
  
"Yes," Voldemort replied simply, looking at each of the ten in turn. "Go."  
  
With a bow, they disapparated. Both Ron and Draco apparated straight to the Ministry.  
  
"Do you need help?" Draco asked in concern.  
  
"No, I'm fine," Ron replied, his voice rasping. He took one step and felt his knees giving way. Draco grabbed his arm and helped him up, putting Ron's arm around his neck.  
  
"Don't need help, huh?" He asked, somehow still staying cocky.  
  
"Shut up," Ron replied, too tired to fight back. Together they stumbled their way to Bill and Dennis's office.  
  
"Hey guys...what the hell happened to you?" Dennis asked, frowning at Ron.  
  
"He was initiated." Draco replied, letting Ron fall into the nearest chair.  
  
"Again?" Dennis asked as Bill left and hurried back with some various healing potions and started muttering charms.  
  
"Into the Innercircle," Ron answered, trying to wave Bill off in vain. "I'm the assassin, obviously."  
  
"Interesting...anything else happen?" Dennis asked, scribbling in his notepad.  
  
"Absolutely nada." Draco replied.   
  
"I killed the Finnigans," Ron said, sighing. "I have no idea why."  
  
"Oh Lord, I'm going home." With a touch of his hair as a parting gestured, Draco disapparated.  
  
"Ugh," Ron said. "I'm fine Bill, leave me be."  
  
"Are you sure?" His companion asked with a frown, pulling the rag away from Ron's face.  
  
"Positive. I'm sure you two were heading to bed." Ron said. The two men looked at each other...it was exactly what they were planning to do. During the day, one man would go home while one would sleep in a bed in the little room next door. They switched on and off.  
  
"Ron, I don't think-" Bill began.  
  
"I just want to be alone." Ron said, making it very clear that the subject was closed for discussion. With a shrug, Bill apparated and Dennis stood.  
  
"If you need anything..." He said as he reached the door to the bedroom.  
  
"I'll tell you, yeah, yeah, yeah," Ron replied, waving him off. Dennis disappeared behind the wooden door, and Ron stared a hole in the wall trying to sort out his feelings.  
  
The Innercircle. Ron was a member of the Innercircle. That was the highest honor among Death Eaters. Somewhere inside of him, Ron felt a surge of violent pride. It only made him feel guiltier. But this did have its benefits, did it not? Now he would be closer to any plans on Harry's life. He could prevent them.  
  
Ron somehow managed to convince himself that this was a good thing. How he accomplished this he would never know, but he did. Ron knew he should go home...he hadn't slept in nearly 30 hours. Yet he felt the urge to go somewhere he could think. There was a park about a ten-minute walk from where he was. Nearly against his own will he found his feet carrying him there.  
  
Not that he did anything of his own free will anymore.  
  
The sunrise was beautiful. He walked along the now familiar paths...he had apparated here many times after a job. He wandered around, lost in his own mind.  
  
Or what was left of it anyway.  
  
"Ron?" A soft voice interrupted him. He spun around the silhouette of a human figure. But Ron did not need his sight to know it was Rayven. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I needed to think," He replied. She moved, and the light splashed over her, allowing him to soak up her beauty. She really was beautiful in a mysterious Death Eater sort of way.  
  
"Why?" She asked, frowning in concern.  
  
"Well, I got initiated into the Innercircle this morning," Ron replied, feeling pride come through.  
  
"Um, okay..."  
  
"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" He asked, half-joking.  
  
"For being the best murderer around? No thanks." She spat. Ron was taken aback by her vehemence.  
  
"Jesus, Rayven!" He exclaimed. "This is a good thing."  
  
"Really?" She sneered. "How is that?"  
  
"I'm closer to the real plans!" He said in frustration. Why was she reacting this way? She had as much innocent blood as her hands as he did. Was she just in denial of what he was? Because she was the exact same thing!  
  
"So that's why I'm supposed to be happy for you?" She demanded. "Because your skills to kill some people might save others? Because of the selective nature of you favor?"  
  
"Why do you care?!" He shouted.  
  
"Because you think this is a good thing!" She snapped.  
  
"I DO NOT!"  
  
"You told me to congratulate you." She retorted.  
  
"I was joking!"  
  
"Didn't sound like it!"  
  
"Why must you be so frustrating?"  
  
"Because you're a monster!"  
  
"SO ARE YOU!" He roared, and she flinched. He sighed, trying to regain control of his red headed temper. "Look, Rayven-"  
  
"I don't want to talk to you."  
  
"Rayven!"  
  
"What?"   
  
"LOOK AT ME!" Ron grabbed her shoulder with one hand and used the other to force her eyes to make contact with his. His anger suddenly faded as he realized how close their bodies were. Their faces were only inches apart.  
  
"Rayven..." He muttered, savoring the honey her name tasted of, feeling the strange sensation of hearing a name he suddenly found so beautiful.   
  
"What?" She whispered breathlessly. He peered into her hazel, golden eyes. They were gazing back, holding...was that hope? He realized that their lips were getting closer together. All he had to do was...  
  
"I have to go." Before she knew what was happening, Ron had disappeared with a soft *pop*. Rayven looked around before burying her face in her hands.  
  
What in the hell had just happened? 


	4. The Potters

A/N Wow, thanks for all the feedback! I love you guys! I know I said I'd wait for 20 reviews, but you can thank CrystalHorse72 for this. I had to post it for her. Thanks hun!  
  
Okay, well, this chapter is the last chapter with Nickleback. If anyone can guess the next lyrics, major kudos to you! (Sierra, Star*dust, and other Hoosier peeps: you don't count) There are also lyrics in this chapter from the songs 'Wind Beneath my Wings' and 'Right Here Waiting for You'. Don't own them either.  
  
Okay, onward!  
  
  
  
Chapter Three:  
The Potters  
  
  
~It's not like you didn't know that  
I said I love you and I swear I still do  
And it must have been so bad  
Cause livin' with me must have damn near killed you  
And this is how you remind me of what I really am~  
  
*Nickleback's "How You Remind Me"  
  
  
"Thirsty?"  
  
"Parched," Ron replied. He took the proffered lemonade from Hermione, and Harry did the same.  
  
"God, you guys act like you've never been shopping before," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at her two male companions.  
  
"It's not the shopping," Harry explained. "It's shopping with you."  
  
"Oh thanks, Harry, love you too!" She snapped, but smiled anyway. Ron hid his glare behind the lemonade. They really didn't know how blessed they were to love and be loved.  
  
The three had finally done something together...the first they had done since school let out. Of course, they had had dinner back in July, but Ginny had been there. Hanging out with just Harry and Hermione had reminded him of the good old days.  
  
The "Good Old Days". That sounded like a corny Muggle sitcom with really fake acting and sappy themes.  
  
Well, the date for the wedding had been set: December 22, the Saturday after the last day of term for Hogwarts students. The threesome had been shopping for Harry's tux and, consequently, whatever Ron was going to wear as best man.  
  
As Harry and Hermione were playfully fighting, Ron's eyes wandered absently around the living room of their flat. They landed on the quaint little clock on the mantle above the makeshift fireplace. He lazily gazed at it, but then suddenly sat straight up.  
  
"What?" Harry and Hermione asked in unison.  
  
"I've gotta go," Ron said, reaching for his cloak.  
  
"Where?" Harry asked suspiciously. Ron smiled to himself while the other two couldn't see. Harry had been very curious about the going-ons of Ron's life since the incident in Diagon Alley. Obviously after he had left Draco showed up, and Harry had been rather jealous that Malfoy knew more about his best friend's life than he did.  
  
Well, it was Harry's own fault. Draco and Ron spent all kinds of time together, along with the girls. Then again, Ron would realize when this thought crossed his mind, those three would understand if he just had to get up and leave like he had in Diagon Alley, while Harry would just get suspicious. No, it was better this way.  
  
"I'm supposed to meet Rayven for dinner in three minutes." Ron answered with complete honesty. Well, almost complete honesty. He was also meeting Draco and Angel, but he wasn't about to tell them that...he got the feeling they would not be amused.  
  
"I thought you didn't have to be there until seven," Hermione frowned. Ron sighed; all this interrogation was really quite a hindrance.  
  
"Hermione, look at the time," Ron said, shaking his head. She did so, and gasped.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She cried. "I didn't mean to keep you!"  
  
"It's fine," Ron replied, grinning at her. "I like being fashionably late. See you!" And with a wave he disapparated.  
  
"I don't like it," Harry muttered.  
  
"Hmm?" Hermione replied, looking up from the lemonade she had returned to.  
  
"I don't like it. I don't like not knowing what's going on with him."  
  
"Oh, Harry, he's a big boy now," Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"It's not that, it's just..."  
  
"What, do you think he's a Death Eater or something?" Hermione replied with a devilish grin.  
  
"No! Of course not!" Harry replied in horror, his eyes widening. "Ron would never!"  
  
"Exactly, so just calm down." Harry obeyed.  
  
"So, where do you want to eat?" He asked.  
  
"Where? Are you taking me out, Mr. Potter?" Hermione asked, grinning.  
  
"Well, unless you want to cook..."  
  
"Hell no!"  
  
"Watch the profanity, Granger." Harry teased.  
  
"Let's go to Le Tour Eiffel," She said jokingly.  
  
"Do you want to?"  
  
"Harry that place is ridiculously expensive." Hermione said, aghast.  
  
"No place is too good for my girl." Harry said, offering his arm.  
  
"Harry-"  
  
"No, 'Mione, my treat."  
  
"If you insist," Hermione sighed. Then she dropped the I'm-only-going-because-you-want-to and giggled childishly. "Let me go get dressed!" She sped upstairs, leaving Harry rather confused about the odd habits of women.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Where's Draco?" Rayven asked her friend, frowning.  
  
"Business," Angel said in a final tone, which Rayven didn't question. "And Ron?"  
  
"Um..."  
  
"Hey!" They whipped around to see Ron, who was dusting his cloak.  
  
"All righty then," Angel said, rubbing her hands together mischievously. "Where are we going again?"  
  
"Le Tour Eiffel," Rayven replied promptly. "We're apparating to that little park outside the Ministry building, and hailing a cab."  
  
"Sounds good to me." Ron replied. They disappeared, and then appeared again a park, and then (after much trial and error) got their cab. It dropped them off right in front of a rather expensive French restaurant. They went inside, and (by some miracle) only waited 10 minutes for their table. The three were very aware of the missing quarter of their little group.  
  
"What IS this stuff?" Angel demanded, frowning at the menu, which consisted entirely of French dishes.  
  
"Like I know. Poulet a l'orange?" Ron said, making a face. Rayven sniggered at his terrible pronunciation.  
  
"Hey everyone, sorry to keep you waiting...not that you waited, I see," Draco said, sounding amused as he surveyed the three diners trying desperately to make sense of the French.  
  
"Draco, do you know what 'Gat-oo oo from-age a la chocolate' means?" Angel asked.  
  
"First of all, it's 'Gateau au fromage a la chocolat'. Draco said, speaking the language fluently, and snickering at the other three as he took his seat. "And it means chocolate cheesecake."  
  
"Oh," Angel replied, blushing. Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"I suppose I'm going to have to tell you all what's edible and what's not?" Draco mused.   
  
"Only if you want to keep your head where it is," Rayven replied sweetly.  
  
"As you wish!" He cried dramatically, and proceeded to explain the menu. The waiter came by, and they all ordered, praying the Draco had been honest. You could never tell with the Malfoy smirk.  
  
None of them noticed the handsome, dark-haired man and the beautiful brunette being lead to a table not far away by the maitre'd.  
  
"This is delicious!" Rayven cried after one bite of her dinner. "Er...what is it again?"  
  
"Spinach quiche," Draco replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Right, right, I knew that." She blushed.  
  
"Um, Rayven?" Angel said, looking up from her plate.  
  
"Huh?" The other girl replied in between bites.  
  
"Will you come to the bathroom with me?"  
  
"Of course." The girls collected their purses and went off chattering. Draco and Ron exchanged looks.  
  
"Women," Ron muttered, not for the first time since meeting Angel and Rayven.  
  
"Why do they have to go to the bathroom in pairs?" Draco asked, making a face.  
  
"There are some questions with no answers, Draco."  
  
There was an awkward pause. Suddenly, it was brought into a painfully bright light that Ron and Draco were supposed to be enemies. They were supposed to hate each other, carrying on the generations of hatred. But, Ron suddenly realized, he could no longer hate Draco if he tried.  
  
"Weasley, I think there's something you should know." Draco said. Ron raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You are the strangest person I know. You had this tight-knit family, and tight-knit friends, and basically a career as an auror laid at your feet. And you threw it all away for this. Only a Gryffindor would do something so stupid. And..." Draco looked rather embarrassed. "Only a Gryffindor would do something so brave."  
  
Ron raised the other eyebrow. "Was that a compliment, Malfoy?"  
  
"Of course not!" Draco exclaimed in mock horror. "I don't want to ruin my reputation!" The two boys laughed. Not the timid, awkward schoolgirl giggles or the cynical, cold Death Eater chuckles Ron had grown so accustomed to. It was the loud, hardy guffaws of two men having a good time. Something Ron had never shared with anyone outside his brothers and Harry...and Draco had never shared with anyone.  
  
"Who is laughing so loud?" The black-haired man asked. The brunette frowned.  
  
"It is rather annoying," Hermione muttered.  
  
"Tell me about it." Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione was searching the place curiously. "Hermione, stop it. You look like my Aunt Petunia when you do that." He shuddered.  
  
"I'm just curious, and besides-" She gasped. "Oh my God! Harry, look to the left. No, I mean your right, my left. Wait, not yet they'll see us!"  
  
"Hermione, what in the hell are you talking about?" Harry demanded, starting to feel his temper rise.  
  
"Wait, he'll see you! Oh my GOD!" Hermione was sounding frantic and shocked at the same time.  
  
"What is going on?" He demanded.  
  
"Okay, they're sitting almost right behind us, a little to your right..." She was muttering.  
  
"WHO?!" Harry snapped.  
  
"You'd never believe me, you'll have to look for yourself." Hermione said. "Wait, not yet!" But it was too late. Just to make Hermione mad more than anything else, Harry had very obviously turned his body so he could see the tables behind him. His eyes immediately caught what Hermione had been talking about.  
  
Ron and Malfoy, sitting next to each other. Sitting next to each other and LAUGHING. As Harry watched, Malfoy poured them both a second glass of champagne. He quickly turned back around, fuming.  
  
"What the Hell?" He muttered, as Hermione bit her lip and watched them from around her wine glass. "I thought he was going to dinner with Rayven, not Malfoy!" Harry hissed.  
  
"What is going on...I thought he hated Malfoy." Hermione said.  
  
"He does!" Harry snapped.  
  
"He did." She corrected. "Obviously, something happened that we didn't know about."  
  
"Well, what in the-" He suddenly stopped short.  
  
"What?" She asked, now as annoyed as he had been just a few moments earlier.  
  
"Look who's coming out of the girl's bathroom," Harry muttered. Hermione spun around (but much more inconspicuously than Harry had) to see two girls approaching them. One had short, curly, lighter brown hair. The other had longer, straight hair, which was almost auburn in color. Hermione immediately recognized the second as Rayven Michaels.  
  
The two girls didn't seem to notice Harry and Hermione's eyes on them as they passed their table. They were giggling and talking, wrapped up in their own little world. Harry felt his eyes bulge as they took the two empty seats at Ron and Draco's table.  
  
"This just keeps getting weirder and weirder..." He muttered.  
  
"Tell me about it," Hermione replied. Meanwhile, Ron and Draco were demanding to know why the girls had been gone so long.  
  
"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Angel asked. The two boys exchanged looks.  
  
"No." They replied in unison.  
  
"That's what we thought!" Rayven said. She went back to her food. "Hmm...needs salt." She muttered. "Where's the salt?" The other three all looked at each other questioningly. "We don't have any salt?" Rayven wailed. "Well, I suppose I'll just...there! There's an empty table with a salt shaker, I'll just go steal theirs."  
  
"Have fun," Draco muttered, as if it were going to be the worst experience of her life. Rayven rolled her eyes and stood to go retrieve her salt. How convenient...the table she wanted was right next to Harry and Hermione's.  
  
"Rayven!" Hermione said as the other girl went past.  
  
"Hermione!" Rayven exclaimed. "And Harry too! Gracious, what are you guys doing here?"  
  
"Eating, obviously." Harry said, gesturing to his food. Rayven rolled her eyes.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Stating-The-Obvious." She replied.  
  
"So Rayven, who are you here with?" Hermione asked quickly, flashing her most charming smile.  
  
"Ron, Draco, and Angel." Rayven replied. "I don't think you've met Angel. Maybe you should come over and meet her..."  
  
"No, that's quite alright," Hermione said. "Don't want to bother you or anything." Rayven gave her a quizzical look.  
  
"It would be no bother, I assure you-"  
  
"Yes it would." She said firmly. Rayven suddenly remember the glares exchanged between Harry and Draco in Diagon Alley, and decided Hermione was probably right. "Anyway, I have a question for you." Hermione continued.  
  
"Yes?" The other girl asked.  
  
"Well...it's about Ron and Ma-Draco." Hermione said sweetly. "Would you consider them...friends?" She forced the last word out. Harry stared at Rayven intently.  
  
"Friends? Heavens no!" Rayven said, laughing. Harry and Hermione let out identical breaths of relief. But Rayven, being Rayven, had to open her big mouth and go on. "More like brothers." Harry blanched, and Hermione froze.  
  
"R...really?" Hermione said, struggling to maintain control of her voice. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"Oh, the way they always fight like siblings, but are really close underneath." Rayven said, completely oblivious to their reactions. "You wouldn't even know how close they were if you didn't know them like I do. They act like enemies, but really, they're like this." She crossed her first two fingers. She opened her mouth to say more, but then she seemed to take notice of her gesture.   
  
Rayven smiled, but it was not the same happy-go-lucky smile Hermione had seen just moments earlier. Her face was stone cold, and her smile was more like a sneer. She seemed to find more in those crossed fingers than she had first implied. "How ironic..." She muttered. Then, she snapped out of it. "Anyway, I just came for some salt," She said, trying to get back the happy person she had been a few minutes ago. It didn't work. She snatched the salt a little too quickly. "Uh...tootles!" And with that, she fled.  
  
"What took you so long?" Angel demanded as Rayven sat down, looking rather flustered.  
  
"I ran into some people I knew." Rayven muttered.  
  
"Who?" Draco demanded.  
  
"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger." She replied, with a sidelong glance at Ron. His sharp blue eyes immediately caught their table. He cursed under his breath.  
  
The wedding was going to be interesting, to say the least...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"We're going to be late!"  
  
"Hold your horses!"  
  
"What are you doing in there anyway?"  
  
"Just adding some final touches to my hair."  
  
"Oh my God..." Ron muttered, turning around and flopping onto the couch. He looked at his watch. Yep, they were going to be late. It was December 21, and the Rehearsal Dinner was due to start in thirty seconds, but Rayven still hadn't come out of her room. Women. He rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well, how do I look?" A feminine voice asked. Ron leapt up and spun around. He was already to say 'fine, let's go', but he couldn't. He could only stare.  
  
Rayven was beautiful, in simple terms. The dress was baby blue, reaching the floor and held up by spaghetti straps. Her deep brown hair was curled, and held back by butterfly pins. It occurred to Ron that he had never seen her in a dress before.  
  
"You look...great." He muttered. Even though the words did her no justice, she could see the praise in his eyes and blushed.  
  
"Thanks," She whispered. There was a moment of awkward silence, and Rayven was transported back to the sunrise when they had almost kissed. What if they had actually...  
  
"We'd better go." Ron said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. He held out his arm, which she took. In that moment before they apparated, anyone who had seen them would've said they looked like the perfect couple.  
  
But no one saw them.  
  
"There you are!" Hermione said, smiling at Rayven and Ron. Somehow, Ron had smoothed over the whole incident at 'Le Tour Eiffel', although he would never know how. In his opinion, his two best friends just wanted to believe he wasn't friends with Draco, so they did.  
  
"Hermione, you look beautiful!" Rayven squealed. Hermione's creamy dress was simple compared to the one she would be wearing tomorrow.  
  
"So do you." Hermione smiled. "Come, come." She led them into the dining room, taking her place on Harry' left and Ginny's right. The two seats to Harry's right were open for them. Everyone was looking at Ron expectantly, waiting for an introduction. He felt his ears redden...he hated speeches.  
  
"Um, everyone, this is Rayven, a friend of mine," Ron said, gesturing to the girl next to him. She smiled charmingly. "Rayven this is-"  
  
"No, allow me," Rayven interrupted, winking at Ron. She pointed to Mr. Weasley. "Arthur Weasley, your dad; Molly Weasley, your mum; Bill Weasley; your eldest brother, who works at Gringotts; Charlie Weasley, your second brother, who works with dragons; Percy Weasley, who works at the Ministry, another brother; then George and Fred, twin brothers who run the joke shop; then Harry and Hermione, the happy newlyweds-to-be; Ginny Weasley, you little sister, still in her final year at Hogwarts; Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, who was cleared two summers ago; then Neville, Seamus, and Dean, who shared a dorm with you and Harry back at school; a couple of aurors you don't know anyway; Albus Dumbledore, who...well, EVERYONE knows Dumbledore, and that's about it!" She finished this with a huge smile. Everyone stared.  
  
"No, you're wrong." Ron said. "You're so wrong." He pointed at his twin brothers. "That's Fred and that's George."  
  
"No, I assure you Ron, that's George, then Fred."  
  
"They're my brothers, Rayven, I think I know which one's which."  
  
"I'm telling you, it's George and Fred."  
  
"No, it's Fred and George!"  
  
"Ron look," Rayven said, pointing at the twins in question. "George's right ear is slightly higher than his left. Fred's are even."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Ron demanded. "Okay, you two, which one's which?" He said, rounding on the twins.  
  
"I'm George." The twin next to Percy said sheepishly. Ron turned in amazement to Rayven.  
  
"Told you so!" She declared, skipping happily to her seat next to Fred. Ron, muttering under his breath, took his seat between Rayven and Harry.  
  
"Okay, um...let there be food!" Harry declared, and food there was. Immediately, talk broke out, mixing pleasantly with the clatter of forks and knives. Rayven fit right in, much to Ron's relief. She could be very charming when she wanted to be. At the moment, she was in a debate with Percy about British involvement of Death Eater activity abroad. Right up their alley.  
  
The meal continued pleasantly. And as the main dish threatened to give way to desert, Ron and Harry found themselves inevitably discussing Quidditch. Meanwhile, Rayven was trying to talk to Hermione and Ginny around the boys. As the pie came out, Harry and Rayven gave up and switched seats.  
  
Ron was happy to be talking to his best friend again, there was no doubt about it. However, there was always a 'but' involved in any happiness in Ron's life these days, and today it was that there was something bothering Harry. He was hiding it rather well, and at first Ron thought he was imagining it. But as the meal went on, Ron knew something was up.  
  
"Harry." Ron said very seriously, interrupting his friend's long spiel on Wronski feints.  
  
"Hmm?" The other replied.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, even though he already knew.  
  
"There's something going on. Fess up." Ron commanded. Harry looked around nervously, and Ron rolled his eyes. It was like they were back in school talking about mindless gossip all over again.  
  
"Ron, I got a wedding invitation today." Harry whispered, hardly audible. No one but Ron could here.  
  
"And this is a bad thing?" Ron asked, confused.  
  
"Yes. It was from my cousin, Dudley." He continued, sounding very serious.  
  
"So your cousin's getting married." Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Big deal."  
  
"There was a letter enclosed," Harry continued, as if he had never been interrupted. "I am not invited to the wedding at all. He sent the invitation because his bride-to-be made him. It was a rather nasty letter."  
  
"Harry, it's just Dudley." Ron said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. As much as Harry hated the Dursleys, they were his only family. Harry sighed.  
  
"I know, but still...I just don't understand why they hate me so much!"  
  
"Well, you didn't invite Dudley to your wedding." Ron pointed out.  
  
"Yes I did." Harry countered bitterly.  
  
"Well...just don't let it get to you, mate." Ron said, trying to smile and go back to his pie. Why did people like that stupid cousin of Harry's have it so good, while Harry's life was, while in the eyes of an onlooker enviable, in reality hellish? Sure, Ron had envied Harry at a younger age, but that was before becoming a Death Eater. Even Harry didn't even know half the horrible schemes on his life, because the Circle of the Two-Faced would stop it before it ever got that far.  
  
"So, about the Cannons..." Harry said enthusiastically, trying to change the subject. Ron obliged, and desert continued happily. Soon, people were starting to file out.  
  
"Well, I guess we should clean up." Hermione muttered.  
  
"I'll help." Rayven volunteered, and Ginny also stayed along.  
  
"Are you staying, Ron?" Harry asked, grinning at his friend. "You're not going to leave me here with the girls, are you?"  
  
"Of course I'll stay." Ron said happily.  
  
Famous last words.  
  
At that moment, the familiar agony seized his left arm, and he had to grab a chair to steady himself. He was never ready for the summons. No one was.  
  
"On second thought, maybe I should go home." Ron said through clenched teeth, trying to sound natural. "I don't want to be a bother."  
  
"Bother?" Hermione snorted. "We want you to clean, duh."  
  
"Well, I'm really bad at cleaning." Ron said. Dear Lord, he could swear that it was worse than it had ever been before.  
  
"I don't think-"  
  
"See you tomorrow!" Ron said, waving and disapparating before Hermione could finish her sentence.  
  
The Dark Lord was outside, waiting for him. At his side, in the trademark black robes but without the mask, was Lucius. Ron sighed with relief, the pain leaving him. Then, his curiosity kicked in. What was Lucius, of all people doing here?  
  
"I was beginning to get impatient." Voldemort hissed.  
  
"My apologies, my Lord." Ron muttered, bowing. "I had to make excuses."  
  
"To Potter?" The Dark Lord asked, amusement flitting across his features.  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Ron said. There was really no point in lying.  
  
"Very well." Voldemort said, after a moment of studying his young servant. "I am suspicious of an Unspeakable named Dennis Bode. Have you met him, Mr. Weasley?"  
  
"I have heard of him, my Lord." Ron lied. He willed himself not to panic. He, Dennis, Bill, and the other Two-Faced were all pretty close. Did Voldemort want him to go and kill Dennis?  
  
That would be a great Christmas present wouldn't it? Hey, Dennis old pal! Merry Christmas! Here, I brought you a fruit basket. Uh-oh, you touched the pineapple, tsk-tsk. You have to die now, because pineapples are Voldie's favorite. Haven't you ever heard? He kills people using Death-By-Pineapples.  
  
Or not.  
  
However, Ron needn't have worried about killing Dennis with pineapples. "To kill him directly would be too obvious." Voldemort hissed. "However, he has a Muggle niece. I want her and anyone in the house killed. We will give him time to take it in, and watch his every move carefully. Then we simply sabotage the funeral. Her house is protected by many spells, which is why Lucius will accompany you. Once you have the go, simply go in and kill them. They are Muggles, not a threat at all."  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Ron muttered. This was definitely not good. Dennis was not going to take this well...he loved his niece like a daughter. "What are their names, my Lord?" Ron asked.  
  
"Does it matter?" Voldemort replied, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of his lipless mouth. "They are only Muggles, Mr. Weasley." Ron, Harry Potter's best friend, would've shuddered. But Ron, Assassin for Voldemort, merely nodded, as if this were obvious.  
  
"Of course, my Lord." And with that, he disapparated.  
  
They were on a Muggle street that looked vaguely familiar to Ron. However, all Muggle streets look alike, so why shouldn't this one bring a tinge of déjà vu?  
  
The house was at the corner of the street. Ron watched in disgust as Lucius lifted his wand and started chanting. Ron hated Lucius Malfoy. He hated Lucius perhaps even more than Voldemort himself.  
  
Ron knew what Lucius Malfoy had done to his son.  
  
However, Ron was stuck with him for the moment. He tapped his foot impatiently as Lucius continued to drone on. It was then that Ron realized something.  
  
His fingers were itching to kill something.  
  
That was it. He did have bloodlust. He was actually looking forward to the murder. He had grown so accustomed to killing, that it had actually become a part of him.  
  
NO! Ron would not allow this to happen. However, as he watched Lucius, he found himself struggling not to tell him to go faster. Ron took a deep breath, trying to convince himself it was because of this mode his master put him in. It was something he could control.  
  
Just not on Death Eater duty.  
  
Before Ron could do anything to give away his conflicting thoughts, Lucius managed to finish. "Have fun, Ronald." Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow. Ron withheld the urge to punch him and merely nodded coldly. There was nothing unusual about that, the Death Eaters weren't exactly buddy-buddy.  
  
The couple was asleep. Six months ago, Ron had still felt pity as he muttered the words, but now they had no meaning. They meant something to someone, he knew, the friends and family of those he was killing. But to Ron the words meant a flash of green light and a job well done.  
  
The couple was dead in a matter of seconds. Ron walked downstairs slowly, musing on whom this house would belong to now that its occupants were dead. He went out into the street, and dawdled. Although he couldn't even bring himself to admit it, he wanted more. He wanted to kill again, right now. On accident, his eyes wandered to the street sign. Ron felt his eyes widen.  
  
Privet Drive.  
  
Well, how convenient. The Death Eater inside the red haired young man on the street suddenly burst out. The scared, lonely, desperate young man that was Ronald Weasley flickered, then died. Kill, blood; that was all that was on his mind. And look at this, he was on the street where Harry's cousin lived.  
  
Ron turned and marched up the street to number four. He knew there was no magic here...the only magic anywhere near Privet Drive was Harry Potter. His hand took out the wand, and preformed the unlocking spell.  
  
The shell of Ronald Weasley knew, somehow, which room was Dudley Dursley's. He walked in to see the young, large man snoring. He raised his wand and smiled.  
  
"Avada Kedavra."  
  
The words, again, had no meaning. They came as naturally as did silk from a spider. He watched with pleasure as Dudley's body jolted, and then died. He then turned and headed back outside.  
  
Maybe it was the cold December air. Maybe it was the snow. Maybe it was the Christmas lights on the house next door, but something awoke Ronald Weasley, and pushed out whatever had taken over. He looked down at his wand, suddenly realizing what he had done.  
  
He began to shake. He had stolen another's life for no reason. NO REASON! He had just had the desire to kill.   
  
The desire to kill. Oh my God, I do have bloodlust, Ron realized, horror entering his eyes. Who had he killed? Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin. Ron knew right then, without ever having to talk to him, that Harry would be upset. Even if they hated each other, the Dursleys were the only family Harry had.  
  
He had just killed off one third of his best friend's family.  
  
Well, that was a bummer! Harry could never know...he would never forgive Ron. Never. Maybe he would say he did, but he wouldn't really. Ron knew his best friend too well to think otherwise.  
  
Not that Harry would ever forgive Ron for being a Death Eater in the first place.  
  
Somehow, through all these frenzied thoughts, Ron remembered to send up the Dark Mark and go to the Ministry. Bill and Dennis were there, playing cards as usual. Ron froze. Dear God, that woman he killed was Dennis's beloved niece! The plan, the first murders! Ron, you idiot!  
  
Guilt, perhaps stronger now than it had ever been, blinded him as he stumbled into the room. Bill leapt up to support him.  
  
"You okay?" He asked. Ron nodded, blinking to help clear his vision. It helped... somewhat. "Rough night?"  
  
"Like you wouldn't believe," Ron muttered. Bill chuckled, and let Ron ease into a chair. Dennis whipped out parchment and quill.  
  
"All right, Ron, what happened?" He asked. Ron stared at him. This was the last time he would ever see Dennis without hatred in his eyes. He just...stared. "Hello, Ronnie...?" Dennis said waving his wand around. Ron blinked and shook his head.  
  
"I killed two people...I don't know their names." Ron said.  
  
"Well then, why did you kill them?" Dennis asked, frowning.  
  
"Because he told me to."  
  
"Why? Why would he tell you to kill someone you don't even know?"  
  
"I do know who they are." Ron countered. "Just not their names."  
  
"Well then, speak man!" Bill roared.  
  
"Ron, don't be afraid. For Merlin's sake, we're not going to burn you at the stake." Dennis said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Yes you will," Ron muttered under his breath.  
  
"C'mon, Ron, I don't have time for this." Dennis said, starting to get impatient. Ron sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.  
  
"I killed your niece and her husband, Dennis." Ron said, looking away.  
  
Silence.  
  
"What?" The syllable came out as a rasping whisper; the desperate attempt of a man trying to tell himself what he had just heard wasn't true.  
  
"You heard me." Ron said. "Don't make me repeat it."  
  
"Anna?" He whispered, looking away and dropping his quill. "Anna? Why Anna?" His voice was hoarse. Not full of hatred or anger, but simply...shock. Shock and heartbreak.  
  
"Because she is your niece, and Voldemort suspects you of being closely involved in the Light side of the war." Ron said, his guilt going from worse to unbearable as he watched the expression on Dennis's face. "I'm so sorry, Dennis..."  
  
"She was like me daughter." His voice cracked with emotion, and his hands were shaking. "She was everything...and you killed her!" He rounded on Ron, a wild hatred in his eyes. Ron immediately started scooting backward. "You killed her, you bastard, and now I'll kill you!" He lunged at Ron, but Bill grabbed him. "Let me go, you moron, he killed Anna! He killed my niece! I'll rip him apart from limb to limb! I'll-"  
  
"Good God, man!" Bill roared over Dennis's screams. "Settle down! Don't you see he had no choice?"  
  
The gleam faded from Dennis's eyes. He stopped struggling, and sat back down in his seat, looking miserable once again. He looked up at Ron, his eyes now devoid of anything at all.  
  
"I'm sorry, my boy." Dennis said. "I know you didn't have a choice. It's just...why? Why my Anna?"  
  
"The funeral will be attacked." Ron said softly. "Of that I am sure. You cannot go, the whole thing was to set you up."  
  
"He killed her because of me?" Dennis croaked. Bill looked between them sympathetically. He then grabbed his parchment and took down all the notes.  
  
"Anything else?" He asked grimly. Ron opened his mouth to tell them about Dudley. He really did. He had every intention of telling them about what had happened, and begging for their understanding. He opened his mouth to tell them about Dudley, but...  
  
"No, Bill. That's all."  
  
"All right then," Bill said, finishing his writings with a flourish. "Go on home and get some rest, you have a big wedding tomorrow. I'll take care of things with Dennis." He added in an undertone. Ron nodded, turned, and disapparated.  
  
Why hadn't he told them about Dudley? Ron felt miserable as he tumbled into bed, only bothering to take off his winter cloak. He tried to fall asleep, but a voice kept ringing through his mind.  
  
"You killed Anna! You killed my niece! I'll tear him apart from limb to limb..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Calm down, man!" Ron exclaimed, patting Harry on the back. "Everything will be fine."  
  
"You hope." Harry said. He was not being his usual optimistic self. Ron sighed, he had never figured out this whole 'nervous about the wedding' syndrome. If Harry and Hermione weren't meant to be, then Ron wasn't a Death Eater!  
  
Whoa, never thought he'd be using THAT analogy!  
  
"Breathe in, breathe out," Sirius commanded, massaging Harry's shoulders. Sirius had been cleared the summer before sixth year. He had been Harry's guardian since then.  
  
Ron smiled coldly. The summer before sixth year. That was the same summer he had become a spy/Death Eater/traitor/two-faced/turncoat...the list went on and on and on.  
  
Anyway, Sirius had been cleared once Wormtail had been captured. Ron remembered clearly that day in August, because he had just come home from a particularly grueling Death Eater training session with MacNair. He had not been in the mood to celebrate even though he didn't have much choice. Because, you see, Ron already knew all about Wormtail's capture.  
  
After all, it was Severus who did it.  
  
But enough about Severus's heroic deeds and how much Harry and Sirius were indebted to him (even though they didn't know it). After all, it was Harry's wedding day! Ron had been looking forward to this as much as anyone else, because it would finally give him a chance to chill out and relax and pretend the whole Death Eater thing was a bad dream.  
  
However, there was still the chance that he would be summoned.  
  
That had been damn inconvenient when he was summoned last night! Harry had asked him about it, and Ron had miraculously managed to sidestep the question. Harry was far too nervous to keep pressing him about it. So even though he had been looking forward to it, Ron knew he had to be cautious. There were too many things that could go wrong.  
  
He was glad Rayven would be there.  
  
What? Where had that come from? Yes, he was glad Rayven would be there...for reassurance. To back him up if he did happen to be summoned....right? That's what he was thinking of, right?  
  
Luckily, Ron's thoughts were interrupted when an owl came flying through the window. It dropped an envelope on one of the small tables in the room, then quickly turned and left. Ron picked it up curiously, and read the words 'Mr. Harry Potter'.  
  
"Harry, you got some mail." Ron said.  
  
"Just open and read it to me." Harry said nervously. "I don't think I could even hold it steady right now."  
  
"Calm down, man!" Seamus, the third and final groomsman said. Sirius was massaging Harry's shoulders. Seamus and Harry were both becoming aurors, which is what lead Harry to make him a groomsman in the first place.  
  
Ron shrugged and opened the letter. He opened it, and immediately began reading.  
  
"Dear Mr. Potter,  
We regret to inform you...."  
  
Ron stopped abruptly, his eyes as wide as saucers. Holy shit, this was the kind of letter everyone didn't want to get. But that wasn't why Ron's eyes were wide and his hands were trembling.  
  
"We regret to inform me of what?" Harry asked forcefully. He gulped and looked at Ron, who had gone pasty. Those words, Harry knew, meant someone had died. They always did. There had been a few of those for students whose parents had been victims of the Dark Lord.  
  
Ron looked up at Harry, but was unable to keep eye contact. He swallowed, then read the letter in the monotonous, emotionless voice he had developed from being a Death Eater.  
  
"Dear Mr. Potter,  
We regret to inform you that your cousin, Dudley Dursley, was found dead in his home at number four, Privet Drive, under the Dark Mark. The cause of death was the killing curse, used at approximately 1:43 this morning. We send our sympathy.  
Cornelius Fudge,  
Minister of Magic."  
  
Ron then folded the letter and slipped it back inside its envelope. He chanced a glance at Harry, but had to look away. Harry's eyes were wide, and his face was blank. Damn it, he had said he hated Dudley! Why the hell did he have that look, just to torture Ron?  
  
But Ron knew it was entirely his fault. He had killed Dudley. For no real reason other than the fact that he wanted to kill someone. Why the hell had he done it?  
  
"I...Dudley's dead?" Harry asked, sounding somewhat dazed. "But...but he never did anything. He was just a Muggle. They killed him because of me. They killed him because he's MY cousin..." Harry's voice was distant. Ron cringed. This was all his fault, he had ruined Harry's wedding.  
  
"I'll just go tell the priest that we'll be a few minutes late, shall I?" Ron asked, anxious to leave this confined space. He suddenly felt very claustrophobic.  
  
"No, no, I'll be fine. After all, it's just Dudley, right?" Harry asked, trying to force a smile. Sirius nodded behind Harry, and Ron turned and took off as fast as he could. He told the priest, then the all the people waiting patiently for the wedding to commence. (Including, Ron noted with disgust, Rita Skeeter.) He then proceeded to go tell Hermione and the other girls.  
  
When Ron knocked, it was Ginny who answered the door. She was dressed in a light golden dress, with just enough frilly things to make it look like it belonged in a wedding. Ron wasn't one to think it, but other men his age would've described her as beautiful, especially with that cute little look of annoyance flitting across her face.  
  
"What the hell do you want?" She snapped. Well, so much for cute.  
  
"What's your problem?" Ron asked, somewhat taken aback by his baby sister's choice of words. Her face relaxed.  
  
"I'm sorry Ron, it's just that I've got a really bad feeling about something." She muttered. Ron raised an eyebrow. "It's like...oh, I don't know! Not the wedding of course, Harry and Hermione are perfect for each other, it's just that-"  
  
"The wedding's being postponed for about ten minutes," Ron said. Ginny looked up in surprise.  
  
"What?" She demanded.  
  
"Confirm your suspicions, Gin," Ron said grimly. "Harry's cousin was killed last night."  
  
"Oh my..." Ginny's eyes widened, and her hand flew to her heart. "Was it...?"  
  
"Voldemort?" Ron asked, and watched his sister flinch. For some reason, Ron was no longer afraid of the name. It didn't really make much sense, as the only people who had more to fear from the Dark Lord than those against him were his followers. "Yes, Ginny. Death Eaters. The Dark Mark was in the sky and everything."  
  
"I'll tell Hermione." Ginny whispered, gently shutting the door.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry was nervous. Incredibly nervous, and grieving at the same time. Not a good combination. However, you wouldn't know this last bit if you hadn't been told, he looked just like every other nervous groom. Sirius said he looked so much like his father it was frightening. Remus had to agree.  
  
He jumped slightly as the familiar tune started up, and knew the wedding procession was making its way toward him. He heard the crowd 'ooo' and 'ahh', and could only assume that Hermione had approached. Harry started to turn, wanting to see her. In his opinion, Hermione was always beautiful, but just thinking of her in a wedding dress made him itch to see it.  
  
Ron held him back, staring at Hermione himself. So this is why Harry fell in love with her! The dress was perfect, and she was blushing slightly. But that wasn't what made her look the way she did. She was glowing, absolutely glowing. Ron could see all her inner beauty shining through her hopeful eyes, radiating off her in tangible waves. And suddenly Ron knew what he wanted more than anything in the world.  
  
He wanted someone to look at him like that.  
  
It was clear that nothing could make Hermione happier than marrying Harry. She loved him. It was as clear as the freckles on Ron's face. She was so in love with him she really didn't know anything else that was going on. Ron wondered what it felt like to be in love.  
  
His eyes traveled to Rayven.  
  
What are you doing? He demanded of himself. Damn it, Ron, she doesn't love you, and she never will. She knows who you really are. She knows WHAT you really are. No one could love you.  
  
And that is what he really believed. The problem was, although he was pretty good at convincing himself Rayven didn't love him, he somehow couldn't even try to tell himself he didn't love her. But it was like a sister, right? Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He loved her; that much was certain. Damn it!  
  
Meanwhile, Hermione had reached Harry. Harry's breath left him when he saw Hermione's face. God, she was beautiful. All doubts left him as he took her hands. Mrs. Hermione Potter. Yeah, he liked the sound of that. He like the sound of that a lot.  
  
The wedding flew by with Hermione and Harry wrapped up only in each other. When the priest said 'Kiss the Bride', the crowd was not prepared for it. Yes, Ron thought jealously, they were in love. True love, pure love, the kind of love a Death Eater can never have.  
  
However, Ron's dark mood subsided as they went forward to the reception. Rayven sat next to him at the head table for dinner, along with the happy newlyweds, Sirius, Remus, Seamus, Hermione's parents, and Ginny. There were people of all shapes and sizes, all having a fabulous time. Bells rang constantly, demanding Harry and Hermione Potter to kiss. Not that they minded or anything. Hermione Potter...Ron tossed the words inside of his mind. They fit together, he thought with a smile. They were meant to be.  
  
Ron watched as Harry and Hermione stood for their first dance, which Harry had been dreading. He still didn't dance well, but he looked so happy that no one noticed. The song was one Ron had never heard before, but he couldn't think of anything more appropriate.  
  
"Did you ever know that you're my hero?  
You're everything I wish I could be  
And I can fly higher than an eagle  
'Cause you are the wind beneath my wings"  
  
Harry whispered in Hermione's ear, and Ron could see her blushing. They were so perfect together....so perfect. Ron, after all these years, still found it hard to believe. Yet there they were, fitting together just like a married couple should.  
  
Married. Well, there's a word Ron was going to have to get used to. His two best friends were married, and to each other no less! Yes, this was going to take some time. Yet seeing them in love was nothing new, Ron had been watching it since he was eleven.  
  
Soon the song was ending, and another starting. Now, Ron realized, the wedding party had to dance. No big deal, he was only dancing with his sister.  
  
Yes, Ginny did look beautiful, even Ron couldn't deny it. He told her so, and she blushed.  
  
"Not that your opinion means much," She teased. Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"Thanks Ginny, love you too." He said. "Anyway, what's my favorite little sister been up to lately?"  
  
"I'm your only little sister." Ginny pointed out.  
  
"So?"  
  
"Yeah, good point." She sighed, letting her brother twirl her around. "Ron, I've been thinking about what to do after I graduate."  
  
"And you're talking to me?" Ron joked. "I don't have a steady job, remember?"  
  
"Yes, well..." She seemed to be on the verge of stuttering. "Ron, I want to...er..."  
  
"To what?" Ron asked, frowning. She was worrying him.  
  
"Work at the Ministry," She finished lamely. Ron's frowned deepened.  
  
"That's not what you were going to say, is it?" He demanded.  
  
"Well..." Ginny bit her lip, and allowed herself to be twirled once more, more to procrastinate than anything else. "Um, see, I...I want to be an Unspeakable." She squeaked. And for good reason. Ron's blue eyes flared.  
  
"Ginny, don't be ridiculous." He hissed. "That is far too dangerous. Do you know how many Unspeakables die each year? Too damn many!"  
  
"I knew you would get hysterical." Ginny sighed. "Look, it's just a thought. Nothing's in stone."  
  
"Don't let it get in stone, Ginny. Always leave yourself a way out." Ron said wisely. 'Because I didn't' he thought bitterly. There was no way out of the Circle. You could never turn back.  
  
"Yes, well, if not...I'm still going to be an auror." She said stubbornly. Ron sighed, stopping his steps as the dance ended.  
  
"There's nothing I can do to stop you Ginny." Ron smiled, leading her back to the table. "You're too damn stubborn."  
  
"Thanks," She said sarcastically, but smiled anyway. He handed her to Seamus, who politely asked for the next dance, and sat down next to Rayven. It didn't take them long to get into a conversation. In next to no time it Harry and Hermione were cutting the cake.  
  
Hermione smashed her piece all over Harry's face. However, it seemed that he couldn't do the same. When Harry raised his cake to try and get his revenge it seemed to be repelled by Hermione.  
  
"That's cheating!" Harry objected. "You used magic!"  
  
"So?" She laughed.  
  
"Well, that spell doesn't save your hair!" He cried.  
  
"Okay, okay!" She cried, taking the spell off. Harry fed her the cake gently, only getting some frosting on the tip of her nose. Then, Ron stood for his best man speech.  
  
"Harry and Hermione...what can I say about them?" Ron asked, raising his glass. "They have been my best friends for over eight years. They deserve no one but each other. Except that I don't know if Herm can put up with Harry's snoring." There was laughter from the crowd. "No, really, I was in his dorm, he snores!" Ron insisted, but he was grinning. "Well, I'm still trying to swallow the whole 'Hermione Potter' thing, but I know that they're in love, and I'm sure you all do too. Here's to Harry and Hermione Potter!" He lifted his drink and gulped it down through applause and clinging glasses.  
  
The music started up again, and everyone was dancing. Ron watched quietly. He was aware of Rayven just a few seats down, but his eyes were traveling the dancers. God, how he wanted to be one of them, any one of them. One of those carefree, innocent, loving people. Not the murderer he was.  
  
Harry and Hermione came back up to the high table for a drink, giggling and high on life. Ron watched them, torn between jealously and joy. They, however, did not seem to notice his odd mood.  
  
"You going to sit there all night like a bump on a log?" Harry asked, grinning. Ron shrugged.  
  
"Aw c'mon, go dance!" Hermione said.  
  
"With whom, may I ask?" Ron said. Hermione looked down at Rayven and winked.  
  
"Why with Miss Michaels, of course!" She said. Before either Ron or Rayven could object, the Potters had lifted them out of their seats and basically thrown them out to the dance floor.  
  
"Might as well humor them." Ron sighed. "It's their wedding, after all."  
  
"Yeah," Rayven replied. The song was fast and very upbeat. It wasn't until they were dancing that Ron realized how beautiful she looked.  
  
Her dress was skin-tight until her waist, where it fell naturally to her ankles. It was creamy in color, and stopped at her collarbones, with no straps or sleeves to hold it there. Her auburn hair was swept up into a French twist, with a lonely stray tendril gracing her face.  
  
"I can't dance!" She said, half shouting over the music, but laughing at the same time.  
  
"Neither can I," Ron assured her. "But let's have a go at it anyway." And so they did, for about three songs straight. Rayven laughed as she and Ron tried desperately not to step on each other. Ron was having a fabulous time despite himself. Then, a slow song started in.  
  
Before Ron knew what was happening he had Rayven in his arms. His breathing was becoming irregular. They hadn't been this close since that morning at the park...Ron tried to take his mind of the beautiful girl he was holding and focus on the music. The song wasn't as beautiful as she was, but it was pretty.   
  
"Wherever you go, whatever you do  
I will be right here waiting for you  
Whatever you say, or how my heart breaks  
I will be right here waiting for you"  
  
Rayven pulled away from Ron slightly and he looked down at her. There eyes met, sapphire and gold. And in that moment of eternity, the music and reception and all of reality slipped away, and there was only her eyes. It was all so perfect, so right...  
  
And he kissed her.  
  
Ron felt something surge through his veins as he kissed her, trying to pour all his emotions into this one kiss. He found her kissing him back with equal force, both knowing this was impossible and neither caring. He felt her arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer, and Ron knew he never wanted to let her go.  
  
"Harry," Hermione whispered, nudging her husband.  
  
"Hmm?" He asked, smiling at her.  
  
"Look," She whispered, pointing at Ron and Rayven, who were kissing passionately. Harry looked and lifted an eyebrow. He exchanged looks with his wife, and both turned back to the kissing couple with knowing smiles. There was no doubt about it.  
  
Ronald Weasley and Rayven Michaels were desperately in love. 


	5. Two Funerals and a Wedding

A/N Hi everyone! *waves* okay, I'm very, very, VERY please with the feedback I've been receiving for this. *huggles reviewers* You guys are me life! Okay, so, here's chapter four. A TON of stuff happens in this chapter, so be prepared. If everything seems rather rushed, remember two things. 1) Ron & Co are Death Eaters, and are prone to die at the drop of a hat, so everything they do is impulsive. 2) There are only three chapters left. And an epilougue. Doesn't seem like much, I know, but there's only seven chapters! This chapter will end in July two years after Ron graduated. The story (excluding epilogue) ends in the coming November. Be prepared for a lot of stuff in very little time!  
  
Note: I do not own any song lyrics.  
  
Anyhoozles, I love you guys (again!). As several of you already know, I send an update email every time I post. If you'd like to be added to the list, leave a review! I'll be glad to put you on! Oh, and if you have questions on a certain inconsistency of my story (the inconsistency being that I said Death Eaters are enchanted not to love, and yet Ron and Rayven are) don't worry. It doesn't match for a reason, the answers are coming.  
  
And now, to the fic!  
  
  
  
Chapter Four:  
Two Funerals and a Wedding  
  
  
~I've heard there was a secret chord  
That David played, and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music do you?  
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth  
The minor fall, the major lift  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah  
  
*Rufus Wainwright's "Hallelujah"  
  
  
The nursery was quiet at the moment, but not for long. A young girl with fiery tresses stomped in, rudely interrupting another, slightly elder young lady, who was elegantly pouring tea for an over-used teddy bear.  
  
"You little mudworm!" The red haired girl screamed. The other looked up innocently.  
  
"Who, me?"  
  
"YES YOU!" The red haired one continued. Her green eyes flashed dangerously. "Look what you did to my new doll's hair!"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Lily," The other replied, sticking her nose in the air and trying to return to her tea party. However, young Miss Lily Evans was not about to let her sister off so easily. She grabbed a fistful of gold hair, forcing it owner to stand.  
  
"Look at what you did!" She wailed. Wincing, the other complied. Her eyes widened at what she saw. In the blanket was not a doll at all, but a real little boy.  
  
A little boy with large green eyes and a queer scar hidden behind his bangs, which were the only part of his hair left...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The air between the four friends was slightly tenser than they remembered. Or rather, it was tenser between Ron and Rayven. Draco and Angel, of course, didn't have a clue what had happened at Harry's wedding, as neither had attended.  
  
Ron and Rayven were fabulous actors, of course. They had fooled their professors and their peers for over a year...but there was something obviously amiss. Draco and Angel both interrogated them, but to no avail.  
  
No self respecting Death Eater would admit to being in love.  
  
And, of course, Ron and Rayven were no exception. Neither wanted to admit that their heart beat a little faster when they exchanged looks, or that they couldn't touch hands without getting short of breath.  
  
And therefore, they avoided each other at all costs. However, they couldn't stay out of each other's paths indefinitely, since Draco and Angel weren't about to let whatever this fiddle-faddle was interfere with their usual outings. And such was the occasion in the last week of January.  
  
It had not been a good month for Ron. He had killed one teenage boy, two middle aged men, and an elderly woman so far, and had gotten wind of the fact that Harry cut his honeymoon short for Dudley's funeral. Nope, not a good month at all.  
  
Not to mention that avoiding Rayven was practically killing him.  
  
He lay awake at night, tossing and turning. Her eyes haunted his dreams. He could feel her lips and her hands and the silky dress. Damn it, why had he kissed her? He should've known it would be like this.  
  
He had only seen her once since the wedding, and that had been an...awkward situation, to say the least. Draco had grilled him, and somehow Ron survived. And now, they were all going out to lunch.  
  
Oh joy.  
  
However, lunch proved to be more enjoyable then other things Ron could imagine. Like being eaten by a lion, for instance. All right, it wasn't that bad, but the awkward air was still there. Ron couldn't stop looking over at her, and once their eyes met. But only once.  
  
After lunch, Angel insisted that everyone come over just to 'hang out' as she put it. The other three finally agreed. They sat around in her living room, and it did not take Angel and Draco long to engage in lively conversation.  
  
Meanwhile, Rayven and Ron just shuffled their feet and bit their lips.  
  
"Ron?" Rayven said quietly. Ron jumped at the sound of her voice.  
  
"Uh, yeah?" He asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.  
  
"Can we go...talk?" She gestured to the hallway.  
  
"I guess so," Ron replied, confusing thoughts and hopes flying through his mind. Angel and Draco only looked up for a moment as the other two disappeared into a hallway before returning to their conversation. They both knew that whatever they were talking about back there would be better than the awkward silences they were having now.  
  
"So...er...what did you want to talk to me about?" Ron asked. He already knew.  
  
"It's about...um...well, at Harry and Hermione's wedding..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well...I think..." Rayven avoided his eye, struggling not to stutter. He held on to every stuttered syllable. "We should just forget about it." She said very quickly, all in one breath. "I mean, it's made things really awkward and...can we just pretend it didn't happen?"  
  
Ron looked deep into her eyes. No, he could never forget. He could never forget those foreign, blissful feelings, the way she tasted, her hands in his hair. He could never forget melting away from reality like that. And when he looked at her, he knew she hadn't forgotten either.  
  
"Yeah," He said, breaking his eye contact. "Yeah, I was just about to suggest the same thing."  
  
"Um...okay!" Her face brightened into a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Something inside of her had been wishing he would passionately reject and kiss her again, but she knew this was for the best. "Okay, let's...uh...go back out there!"  
  
"All right," Ron replied, half smiling. However, as soon as Draco and Angel came back into view, their faces split into twin mischievous grins.  
  
"Ron?" Rayven asked, watching her two friends flirt like mad.  
  
"Rayven," He replied, his eyes twinkling.  
  
"Have you ever seen Fiddler on the Roof?" Ron tore his eyes from Draco's gestures and Angel's giggles for a moment to give Rayven a funny look.  
  
"No, why?" She only smiled in response, but a couple minutes later he heard her begin to sing softly.  
  
"Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron wasn't doing much...unless you count staring into the fire doing something, which I certainly don't. Chess bored him now, and all his housework was done. He avoided his bed at all costs, because trying to sleep only brought thoughts of Rayven. He was contemplating getting out all his dishes and washing them for the third time that day when an owl thankfully came in to distract him.  
  
"Hello Seth," Ron said cheerily to the handsome gray barn owl he immediately recognized as Draco's. After feeding him a few owl treats, he retreated to his armchair to read the letter.  
  
Ron,  
Yeah, Friday's fine. We're meeting at your flat, right? I'll be there. Is it formal? What shall I wear?! No, just kidding, I'm not Angel you know. See you (and the girls, I'm assuming) Friday.  
Draco  
  
Ron grinned. Perfect. He'd already gotten word from Rayven saying she got the green light from Angel. Ron hastily wrote back to Draco, sending Seth away with a few soft coos. He then turned to his parchment and quill to write Rayven.  
  
Suddenly, the parchment, quill and ink became the Enemy.  
  
He sat down, stretched, then grabbed his quill and allowed it to hover over the parchment for a few moments.  
  
Dear Rayven...  
  
No. Ron grabbed the parchment and crumpled it up, throwing it behind him, then tried again. Another no go. Why the hell was writing a letter to her so difficult? Ron wondered furiously. He got the answer when he looked down and found that he had been absently writing her name over and over again...once with the name Weasley attached...  
  
It took Ron over an hour to write the letter, which read as follows:  
  
Rayven,  
Draco will be there. See you Friday.  
Ron  
  
There, that wasn't too suggestive was it? It didn't imply anything did it? He had considered making it longer for the sheer reason that their names were only separated by one line, but he decided he couldn't risk any more.  
  
He sent it off with Pig. Then he returned to brooding next to the fire. However, after a moment, Ron's frown turned into a grin. Yes, this little scheme of theirs was going fantastically. Ron found himself whistling that little tune Rayven had taught him last week, because both Draco and Angel had failed to realize something.  
  
Friday was Valentine's Day.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Let's get this party started!" Ron looked up from his dark green shirt at the sound of the familiar voice.  
  
"Hello Draco," He smiled.  
  
"Where are the girls?" Draco frowned, looking around the front room of Ron's flat.  
  
"We're here!" Rayven cried, right on cue. She and Angel literally 'popped' in side by side. Ron felt his heart leap into his throat...Rayven was wearing a cute little number the color of pale sunshine, which ended at her knees and was held up by two modest, yet not unbecoming straps. Angel, too, looked rather pretty, with a white dress that was held on by spaghetti straps. However, while all of Rayven's dress fell naturally and moved as she walked, Angel's was skin tight to the waist.  
  
"About time!" Draco announced, breaking the moment of silence that usually ensues whilst boys are gaping at girls.  
  
"Come on, then." Ron said, sounding rather embarrassed as he gestured. As one, they all apparated.  
  
They crossed the street from the alley they had apparated to, finding themselves at a very nice (and rather expensive) Italian restaurant. They were shown to their tables and given their menus, which were, to Angel's relief, written in English.  
  
"That's strange..." Draco muttered as he looked around the room.  
  
"What's strange?" Rayven remarked absently.  
  
"There seem to be a lot of couples here..."  
  
"Of course," Ron said. He exchanged a devilish look with Rayven. "It is Valentine's Day, you know."  
  
"It is?" Draco and Angel asked in unison, their mouths dropping.  
  
"Duh," Rayven replied, trying to hide her smile as Ron tried desperately to turn his laughter into a coughing fit.  
  
"You guys set this up, didn't you?" Angel asked.  
  
"So what if we did?" Ron replied, putting his napkin down again. Draco and Angel exchanged looks and shrugs.  
  
The meal was quite a pleasant affair. They talked and listen to the live orchestra, which was really quite fantastic. There was a dance floor (where about a million couples were dancing and/or kissing), as well as a staircase. Draco, the only one who had been there before, informed them that the only difference between floors one and two was that the second had a balcony.  
  
Dessert came, and Ron and Rayven were starting to get desperate. They were determined to hook up their friends. Their eyes met, and both said the same thing: 'we need to leave them alone together!'  
  
"Well, I'm full!" Ron announced setting down his fork. He looked at Draco and Angel, who were also finishing up. Rayven, of course, had been done before any of them. Ron's eyes studied the room, trying to find a reason for himself and Rayven to leave Draco and Angel to themselves. His eyes landed on the orchestra.  
  
An annoying little voice started whispering into his mind. He common sense told him no, but everything else said yes. This was the only way anyway right? And besides, if he didn't do it, he would only drive himself into insanity wondering what would've happened if he had...  
  
"Rayven," He said, standing and holding out a hand to her. "May I have this dance?" All three of them gaped at him, with Rayven's eyes the widest. Ron's eyes darted to Draco and Angel and back, telling her why he was taking such drastic measures. After a moment, she swallowed.  
  
"Yes," She replied, taking his hand and rising as well. "Yes, of course, Ron."  
  
Ron was well aware as they began dancing that he hadn't been in this close of contact with Rayven since the wedding. He was thrilled to be holding her again, but tortured at the same time. She didn't want him, and he couldn't have her. Why was he even doing this?  
  
Well, that was a dumb question.  
  
"Ron?" Rayven asked.  
  
"What?" Ron replied.  
  
"Why are you doing this?"  
  
"Doing what?" He replied innocently. "I was just trying to leave Angel and Draco to themselves."  
  
"That's not what I meant."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Then answer me."  
  
Ron sighed, "You already know the answer, Rayven. Don't play innocent with me."  
  
"You're just making this harder for me." Ron stopped in mid step at her words.  
  
"You?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you hated me."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Rayven replied. "You're the one who hates me."  
  
"I don't hate you!" Ron replied, sounding appalled. "I...I..."  
  
"You what?" She asked, looking up at him hopefully. Ron suddenly, once again, became acutely aware of how her dress felt under his hands, and the slight tickling sensation on his neck as she breathed, and how close their bodies really were. And he decided he couldn't stand it any more.  
  
So he kissed her. Again.  
  
It was passionate and fierce, but Rayven kissed back with much the same force. They pulled apart for a moment, then kissed again, slower and softer.  
  
"Rayven," Ron whispered in her ear.  
  
"Ron?" She said breathlessly.  
  
"I love you," He looked down and saw her eyes brimming with tears.  
  
"I love you too," She whispered. After another gentle kiss, she laid her head on his chest. "This is impossible, you know."  
  
"I know." Ron replied. With that, they danced and lost all time and space in each other.  
  
  
  
"Hey, where are Draco and Angel?" Ron asked suddenly. Rayven jumped slightly at hearing his voice, and cast her eyes over to the table they had been occupying...it was now empty, and the busboys were setting it up for a new group.  
  
"I don't know..." She muttered. After a thorough search of the dance floor, they decided to try going upstairs.  
  
As Draco had said, it was like walking up a flight of stairs and finding yourself the same place you were before. The décor was the same, the music was the same...they even had the same portraits on the walls! The only difference was a pair of French double doors that led out to the terrace.  
  
"Let's try there," Rayven said, gesturing to the doors. Ron nodded and followed her lead. Rayven opened the door in the silent way that only a Death Eater could, and stepped out, Ron right behind her.  
  
There they were. Draco's hands were gently twirling a stray strand of Angel's brown hair, talking quietly. And right there in front of Ron and Rayven (granted, they didn't realize it) Draco and Angel shared their first kiss.  
  
Ron was all prepared to turn around and go back inside, but Rayven wasn't so nice.  
  
"Don't fancy Draco?" She smirked. They both whirred around, their cheeks flaming. Draco glared at Ron, who hadn't had the time to duck into the building.  
  
"C'mon," Angel said, trying to hide her cheeks. "Let's go."  
  
Laughing, the four apparated into the night.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Yet more plans were made for the foursome to be together, and yet more havoc they wreaked, both in the harmless, teenage fun sense and the deadly game of war. However, they tried to ignore it, as if that were possible. Those four and Severus made up the backbone of Ministry Intelligence.  
  
No pressure.  
  
You must understand (if you don't already) what these five were wagering. Their lives, their happiness...in Ron's case his family and friends. So, with this clarified, you may proceed.  
  
Otherwise it would be hard to understand why Draco, Rayven and Ron were so distressed when Angel was late.  
  
"She was probably just summoned," Rayven said nervously.  
  
"At noon?" Ron pointed out. "That's not Voldemort's style. He prefers midnight, moonless, and freezing."  
  
"How cliché," Draco remarked absently.  
  
"All Dark Lords are the same," Ron continued, as if he had met and served several, and was sitting at a bar with a mug of something hot, a pack of cigarettes and an old friend.  
  
"I believe Grindlewald preferred a full moon," Rayven mused thoughtfully. "It enlightened him."  
  
"And how would you know?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"History lesson."  
  
"I HATED History!" Ron and Draco exclaimed in unison. Rayven chuckled.  
  
"How? I mean, it was our most interesting class. Professor McField-"  
  
"Ah," Ron said, as if the mysteries of the Universe had been unveiled. "A proper teacher."  
  
"Always useful for a class." Draco commented.  
  
"What? Mean prof?" Rayven asked curiously. Draco snorted.  
  
"Dead prof, you mean."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Professor Binns," Ron made a face. "He was a ghost...definitely the most boring ghost in existence."  
  
"Uh-huh. Well, we did have that one teacher that absolutely no one listened to, and was so old he might as well have been dead." Rayven mused. "Her name was Professor Byrd." Draco opened his mouth to make a smart remark, but the words never came.  
  
They all felt it. Like a friend being cut out of a picture. Like a child being wrenched from its mother. Like a husband crying out to his wife... Someone in their little family had just been taken from them.  
  
"Angel,"  
  
It was only one breath, but Draco's word suddenly brought panic. After a split second, the three reached a mutual decision and apparated from Rayven's flat to Angel's.  
  
"Angel," Rayven called, looking around the living room and kitchen. She was met with silence...dead silence. "Angel!" She sounded more desperate this time. Draco looked down the hallway, and saw the door to her room slightly opened. He went down carefully. Rayven and Ron followed him. Looking back at his companions only once, Draco pushed the door open.  
  
Draco staggered back several paces and Rayven buried her face in Ron's shoulder. Ron could only stare.  
  
"Oh my God..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Severus Snape was in his element. Sneering in the expert way only a Death Eater can, he was leering over the slightly...okay VERY off-color potion of Ginny Weasley and her unfortunate Potions partner, Colin Creevey. However, just as he was about to start spouting insults and taking away points, the door to his classroom was flung open. He turned on heel, very annoyed at being interrupted in the midst of his favorite pastime.  
  
"Headmaster!" He exclaimed in surprise. Indeed it was. Dumbledore crossed the room quickly and handed Severus a letter. Taking it and looking down, he realized that it had already been opened. He began to pull out the parchment within, but Dumbledore stopped him.  
  
"You are needed Severus." The Headmaster said simply, in answer to his professor's questioning eyes.  
  
"Where?" He asked.  
  
"Draco,"  
  
Severus felt his eyes widen. Draco...but with Draco would come Ron and Rayven and Angel and...oh dear God, someone had been discovered. Without a backward glance, he swept out of the classroom. His students only stared. Dumbledore pulled out a wand and, with a sigh, muttered "Obliviate," He smiled cheerfully at the class.  
  
"The rest of Potions class has been canceled due to the fact that Professor Snape was needed in the infirmary." The class cheered, and went about their daily business, not remembering anything before the Memory Charm.  
  
Only Ginny Weasley was quick enough to avoid it.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
By the time Severus arrived several Ministry officials were already surrounding Angel's flat. The letter had been only been an address, written in the shaky had Severus had immediately identified as Draco's. He hadn't expected trouble on getting inside, however, that's what he got.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," Some Ministry official or another said importantly, gesturing Snape away from the yellow tape. "Ministry business, no civilians."  
  
"I am needed," Severus replied, feeling his fists ball up.  
  
"Sorry, sir, no one gets in without the clear," The young man seemed to be thoroughly enjoying this.  
  
"Listen sir," He pronounced the second word with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "If you do not let me in there, I will-"  
  
"Severus!" A familiar voice interrupted. William Croaker jogged over to where the two men were standing...er glaring rather.  
  
"Bill, tell this infernal kid to get out of my way." Severus commanded.  
  
"You'd better get away, O'Henry."  
  
"But sir-"  
  
"Go back to work. Mr. Snape here has every right to come in," This did not help Severus's imagination, which had been producing all kinds of terrible images.  
  
"What is going on, Bill?" He asked quietly, once that O'Henner (or something like that) character had sulked off.  
  
"Go up for yourself, Severus," Bill replied sadly. "I've got to go collect some Ministry blokes. It's flat B12."  
  
"Thank you," He muttered, and immediately pushed into the building and made his way through the milling aurors and into the flat. As he entered the living room, he knew it was much worse than he had expected.  
  
The first thing he saw was the quivering figure on the sofa. Actually, he realized as his eyes accustomed themselves to the light, there were two figures. Rayven was the quivering one, shaking with sobs. She was curled up, crying onto Ron's chest. He stroked her hair and seemed to be taking shaky breaths, trying to calm himself. It appeared that he had been crying as well. If two of Voldemort's favored assassins are crying, you know something is wrong.  
  
It was another few moments before Severus became aware of Draco's presence. He was standing in the shadows, leaning back against the wall for support. His stare was burning a hole through the wall, and his aura was even colder than usual.  
  
"Severus," Ron said, the first to notice his old professor. Rayven looked up, and Severus didn't miss the trails of tears down her smooth cheeks. Draco nodded.  
  
"That way," The last said, gesturing to the hallway. Severus nodded and walked down, wondering what he would find...he wasn't prepared for what he saw.  
  
The room had once been Angel's bedroom. She was there, sprawled out on the bed, her limbs at impossible angles. Her skin, once beautiful, was now stained with blood...not a single spot was untouched. Severus's eyes traveled the room, and he thought he would be sick when he saw the wall above the bed. In a dark, brownish stain that could only be blood was written one word.  
  
'Traitor'  
  
With morbid curiosity, Severus got as close as he could (what with all those annoying Ministry blokes still running around) to Angel's body for further investigation. There he saw that the skin had cuts...millions of tiny, painful little cuts. He looked sadly on the twisted face of the brave young woman he had known, then turned to join his counterparts in mourning.  
  
He sank into an armchair. No words passed between the four of them...none needed to be. They were all thinking the same thing: Nothing at all. Numb disbelief had taken them, and only Rayven had enough in her to cry. The three men simply stared at each other, remembering Angel and trying to imagine life without her.  
  
Perhaps that was so startled when one of the Ministry officials said something to them.  
  
"Ron?" A confused voice asked. The four jumped, and turned to see a young brunette looking curiously as them. "Malfoy? Snape?"  
  
"Hermione?" Ron replied, his voice croaking. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I was investigating the body in situ," Hermione replied, shrugging. "Obviously some Death Eater who dared to tattle once about something stupid. Probably just a warning to the others. What are you doing here?"  
  
Ron gave a strangled cry at her words. Total lack of respect. She has saved your life, Hermione! His mind screamed. However, nothing would come out. Unable to look at her curious face any longer, he did the only thing he could think of, and apparated out of their. The other three, after giving Hermione their own unique Death Eater glare, followed suit.  
  
"Well, that was strange," Hermione muttered, and went back to work.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
There weren't many people at the funeral of Angel Pentser. However, those who were there were there to grieve, and were not paying the slightest attention to the priest as her coffin hovered over her final resting place. Angel had touched the hearts of few, but she hadn't touched them at all, rather caressed them.  
  
Of course, the Ministry would be holding a recognition/award ceremony in their spy's honor. But the other four couldn't attend...word would get around to good old Voldie.  
  
Draco was in quite a state. He had just, Ron knew, found out his feeling for her, and now she was disappearing into the depths of the earth. Heartbreaking...and rather worthy of an epic poem, in Ron's opinion. However, poetry was the last thing on his mind. He had managed to keep his emotions under control, trying to be supportive of Rayven.  
  
Rayven. You had to feel sorry for her. Rayven and Angel had been friends for God only knows how many years...at least as long as Ron had known Harry. To see her friend dead--murdered by Voldemort-was more than she could bear.  
  
Severus's demeanor was as stony as always, but Ron did not miss his slightly trembling hands. Ron was amazed to find that he himself wasn't so steady. One of their own...gone.  
  
If Hermione was correct (which she almost always was) and the gruesome death was more of a warning to other traitors of their fate, Voldemort had done a damn good job of it. Ron knew now, more than he ever had before, what would happen if he was found out. If someone, probably one of the more eager Death Eaters, discovered his true colors, death was certain to come knocking on his door. But what could he do about it? Once a Death Eater, you couldn't just resign, and he wasn't about to turn truly Death Eater and abandon his post as a spy.  
  
He could never turn back. It was too late now.  
  
In an automatic, mechanical motion, Ron and the others threw black roses into the grave with Angel. It was too late for her, but her death would not be in vain. The ceremony closed itself, and Ron looked around one last time. He was pleased to note there were no other Death Eaters here before he apparated away.  
  
No one noticed a man standing in the shadows. He was a Death Eater, who went by the name of Marcus Flint. He had come to say goodbye to Angel.  
  
He was holding an infant in his arms.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It took a long time for the Circle of the Two-Faced to recover from its loss. However, time did go one. Ron and Rayven continued to kill, Draco continued to steal, and Severus continued to concoct terrifying Potions and frighten young Hufflepuffs on the side.  
  
Angel was never forgotten.  
  
The possible consequences of his decision were haunting Ron Weasley. For the first time in his life, he wished he could sit in the shadows and let someone else be the hero. He wanted to be ignorant and protected. He wanted to settle down and start a family...  
  
With Rayven, of course.  
  
With time, their bond had only strengthened. It was coming to be June, and Ron had known since December how much he loved her. How quickly time had passed! And so much had changed...He just wanted to run away from it all.  
  
Yes, running away. The thought of running away had crossed the mind of Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor. Not once, but many, many times he had thought of ways to run. To hide away in another country until all the turmoil in Britain died down. America was looking like a good choice, or perhaps Australia.  
  
However, he knew he could never leave without Rayven.  
  
Their relationship had now officially reached the 'dating' stage. And they fought, like every couple does, but they always made it up. And it was after one of these little 'lover's spats', as Severus referred to them in disgust, that Ron was going to bring up the idea of running off.   
  
He was hoping in the heat of 'kiss and make up' that she would forget herself and agree, so he could whisk her off to safety. The thought of her being in danger of a fate like Angel's was plaguing him. He had had several nightmares of Angel's death, and recently Angel's body had been replaced with Rayven's. This was one thing he was not about to let happen.  
  
And so, he rang the doorbell to her flat, hoping she was cooled down enough to at least let them reach the 'kiss and make up' stage of things.  
  
"What do you want?" She snapped as she opened the door. She was trying to still be angry with him, but Ron could tell she wasn't. With puppy eyes, he pulled a bouquet of roses from behind his back.  
  
"Forgive me?" He asked innocently.  
  
"Absolutely not!" She declared, putting her nose in the air. "If you think some roses are going to make me forgive you, you are terribly mistaken, Ron Weasley. And...stop looking at me like that!" She held up her hands, trying to avoid his adorable sapphire eyes. "Not the innocent puppy thing, Ron, that is so not fair!"  
  
"Pwease?" He asked in a little kid voice. She looked at him, trying not to smile, but it was in vain. Finally she gave up, accepted his flowers, and kissed his nose affectionately.  
  
"All right, all right..." She said, gesturing for him to come in. She busied herself with looking for a vase for her roses.  
  
"So, did you miss me?" Rayven asked, sliding onto his lap.  
  
"Where did you go?" Ron asked playfully. She stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"Of course I missed you," He replied, smiling and stroking her hair, content. He was content to sit here, with Rayven for the rest of his life. After a brief interval (yes, this is where the 'kiss and make up' stage took place) he decided to bring up the subject.  
  
"Rayven?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I was wondering..." Oh dear, this was going to be harder than he thought. "I mean, I'm not, um, well..."  
  
"What is it Ron?" She asked curiously.  
  
"You've got a very interesting ceiling, Rayven," He mused thoughtfully. She raised an eyebrow.  
  
"All that stuttering just to comment on my ceiling?" She asked skeptically.  
  
"But it is an interesting ceiling!" Ron insisted. "Not like the Great Hall or anything, but-"  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Get to the point."  
  
"Ah the point," Ron said, shuffling his feet nervously. "Well, the point is...um, well, see...the fact of the matter being that...I'm hungry!" He declared, jumping to his feet. "Let's get some ice cream!"  
  
"No ice cream for you," Rayven said. "Until you tell me what's going on under that mop of red hair."  
  
"Well, we don't have to get ice cream on Main Street or anything..." He stumbled on. "I was thinking we could go somewhere with...really good ice cream?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" She cried, getting frustrated.  
  
"Well, I heard there's this really great ice cream parlor in New York..."  
  
"NEW YORK?"  
  
"Heard of it?" Ron asked sheepishly. "You know, Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building?"  
  
"But that's in AMERICA!" Rayven cried.  
  
"Well, how about Sydney?"  
  
"Australia?" She looked at Ron in shock. "Are you suggesting we leave the country?"  
  
"Well..." Ron blushed. "That about sums it up, yeah."  
  
"RON!" She cried, following his example and leaping to her feet, even though the effect wasn't near as powerful as he was a good deal taller than she was. "Only you could bring food into a subject like leaving England!"  
  
"And food's a bad thing?" Ron asked innocently. Obviously she wasn't going to take this the way he had hoped.  
  
"It's not about the food you dolt!" She exclaimed. "It's...it's...do you really mean leaving?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" He asked, starting to get rather agitated. "Look at what happened to Angel. That could be us, Rayven! I can't stand the thought of that happening to you!" He took her hands in his, looking down at her, begging her to understand.  
  
"Run away from our problems?" She asked. "What kind of Gryffindor are you! Honestly, Ron, we can't just leave now!"  
  
"Why not?!" He demanded.  
  
"WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR!" She screamed.  
  
"You think I don't know that?" Ron asked heatedly. "And we've done more than our share, damn it!"  
  
"How can you say that?" Rayven asked, feeling tears of anger welling in her eyes. "This isn't some 'Britain wants the same land France does' this is GOOD VS. EVIL! What the hell kind of morals do you have?!"  
  
"It's not about morals, it's about..." Ron seemed at a loss for words. "Damn it, Rayven, I don't want anything to happen to you!"  
  
"Oh, use me as an excuse for your cowardice," She spat. "I can take care of myself perfectly fine, thank you!"  
  
"That's what Angel said, too!"  
  
"SO?" She screamed. "At least if I die, I WILL DIE FIGHTING!" She turned, not wanting him to see her tears fall.  
  
"Rayven..."  
  
"Don't, Ron," She said. "Don't even try."  
  
"You don't understand what I'm trying to say!"  
  
"I understand just fine!" She exclaimed, whirling around again. "You want to hide away in a corner. You're afraid."  
  
"YES I AM AFRAID!" Ron cried, throwing caution to the wind. "I'm afraid you're going to get KILLED! I can't live without you, Rave, I-" His voice cracked with emotion. "Damn it," He muttered again. "I just want to be with you."  
  
"In another country?" She asked, trying to be vehement, but his words had touched her deeply.  
  
"I don't understand you." He muttered.  
  
"What don't you understand?"  
  
"I don't understand why we can't just run off to Tahiti or some such place and get married and-" Ron's words were cut short. He couldn't believe what he had just said. 'Get MARRIED?'  
  
"What?" Rayven whispered.  
  
"Rayven, I..."  
  
"It was the heat of the moment," She said, trying to control a wave of bitter disappointment. "I understand."  
  
"No!" He cried suddenly, as she started to walk away. "Rayven...I do want to marry you."  
  
"Are you...asking...?" She stuttered somewhat.  
  
"Sure!" Ron suddenly laughed. "Why not, Rayven? I am in love with you, and damn it, I'm going to marry the woman I love...that is, if she'll have me," He looked at Rayven, holding his breath.  
  
"Ron!" She cried, flinging her arms around him and pulling him into a passionate kiss. She laughed as he pulled away and lifted her right off the ground, twirling her in a circle.  
  
"That's a yes, I hope," He said, bringing her down next to him on the sofa.  
  
"Of course..." She muttered. "That wasn't planned, was it?" She asked.  
  
"No, I don't even have a ring," He blushed somewhat.  
  
"Good," She mused. "I like it better this way."  
  
"Well then..." Ron suddenly got a devilish smile. One of those frightening, teenage boy, scares-even-the-Marauders smiles. "Let's go."  
  
"What?" She asked, dazed from all that was happening.  
  
"Let's go, right now!" He leapt up, and turned to his new fiancé.  
  
"Go where?" She giggled.  
  
"To get married." He replied, as if this were obvious.  
  
"Ron!" She leapt up once again. "Are you mad? We can't just up and get married right now!"  
  
"And why not?" Ron asked childishly. Rayven spluttered, trying to find a good answer to his question.  
  
"Because...well...I don't have a dress!" She cried finally, looking down at her sweater and jeans.  
  
"Then go get one. I'll get the rings in the meantime," He said.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Rayven!" He pulled her close to him, so close that their foreheads were touching. She saw a light shining in his bright blue eyes. She felt her heart flutter as she realized that light was for HER. He was so excited because he wanted to marry HER, and he couldn't wait...literally.  
  
"This is so crazy," She said, grinning. He kissed her.  
  
"I know," And with that, he reached for his cloak. "How long will it take you to buy a dress?"  
  
"About three hours," She said thoughtfully. Ron nearly dropped his coat again.  
  
"Rayven..." He whined.  
  
"And we'll need witnesses," Rayven continued professionally, as if this were a school assignment rather than her wedding. "So, I'll be able to procure both. You get rings and a priest or something."  
  
"Very well, Miss Michaels," With a thrill, Rayven realized that in only a few hours, that would be her maiden name.  
  
"This is nuts," She said again, but she was grinning like crazy, her cheeks flushed from all the excitement.  
  
"I'll see you at St. Maria's Church in a few hours," He whispered in her ear. He pulled away, grinning the same way she was. "And I might even be dressed for the occasion."  
  
"You'd better be," She said playfully. He grinned and apparated to his own flat.  
  
It wasn't until Ron was in his bedroom that he fully became aware of what he was doing. He was getting married...a scary thing, to be sure, but it was to Rayven. However, the really weird part of it all was the fact that he was getting married without his family or Harry and Hermione, or even Draco! No one knew...he hadn't even known until ten minutes ago!  
  
And the strangest part of all: He was absolutely ecstatic.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Rayven walked into Little Whinging's tiny Dress Shoppe slightly dazed. Was this possible? Was it possible that she, shy, timid little Rayven Michaels, who planned EVERYTHING in advance, was about to get married out of the blue?  
  
Did Voldemort like snakes?  
  
Bad analogy, but it worked. She all but danced into the store. The lady's funny look disappeared as soon as Rayven requested a wedding dress. Young love, the lady sighed.  
  
It did not take Rayven long to decided on a style. Soon, the seamstress had her standing on a stool, hastening to throw the cloth around her. Rayven looked around, and saw a tall, blonde woman standing next to her. They smiled at one another.  
  
"Hi," Rayven said.  
  
"Hello," The other replied. "So...why are you here?" It seemed a good way to start the conversation, since they would undoubtedly be stuck standing next to each other for a while anyway.  
  
"I'm getting my wedding dress," She blushed.   
  
"Congratulations!" The blonde smiled. "When are you getting married?"  
  
"In a few hours,"  
  
"Oh?" The other said curiously.  
  
"Well, it wasn't planned..." Rayven blushed. "See, it's like a hidden...um...Romeo and Juliet kind of thing I guess. We can't tell anyone, and it's all very rushed."  
  
"How romantic," The woman sighed.  
  
"Are you married?" Rayven inquired politely.  
  
"Oh yes," She blushed. "Coming to my twentieth anniversary.  
  
"Really?" Rayven asked, looking the woman up and down. "You look far too young, Mrs....?"  
  
"Dursley, dear," The woman smiled. "Call me Petunia."  
  
"Alright, Petunia..." Rayven smiled shyly. "I'm Rayven Michaels...well, not for long..."  
  
Rayven and Petunia gadded, having fun and bonding quickly. Time slipped by as both dresses slowly started to take shape. Petunia's was for some dull meeting for her husband's job (he made drills), which she was not looking forward to.  
  
"What does your husband do?" Petunia inquired.  
  
"Umm...he works at the Ministry," Rayven replied honestly.  
  
"Oh," Petunia replied. She was pleasant company enough (well...as Rayven was used to Death Eaters as her primary 'company' practically everyone seemed 'pleasant'), but Rayven was beginning to detect a sadness to her voice.  
  
"Look, I know I'm not the person to ask, but..." She looked at her newfound friend curiously. "Are you okay? You seem...upset."  
  
"My son," She muttered. "He died a few months ago."  
  
"Oh how terrible!" Rayven said, a hand raising to her mouth. It occurred to her that innocent Muggles like these were the ones who were affected by her murders. But she pushed all that from her mind...she was getting married and Voldemort was not going to distract her again!  
  
"And I've been having these strange dreams..." She trailed off, as if trying to remember a dream again.  
  
"Really?" Rayven asked curiously. She had taken a course in school especially about the meanings of dreams. She hadn't done very well (a 'C', God forbid), but she had to be better than this Muggle. "I'm rather good with dreams," Rayven lied. "Tell me about it."   
  
"They always have my sister, and we're always children," Petunia began. "And usually, it seems that I've made her mad...I think about her dolls. Then she shows me the doll, and it's my nephew. The only one I remember showed him mostly bald."  
  
"That's odd," Rayven agreed. "Is your sister mean?"  
  
"She's dead," Petunia replied flatly.  
  
"Oh I'm so sorry..." Rayven stuttered.  
  
"It's alright," The other replied. "I hated her anyway."  
  
"And your nephew...?"  
  
"I didn't like him any better, but I raised him anyway," Petunia explained. "Strange...every since my dear Dudley died I keep dreaming about Harry, and I always feel guilty." She sighed.  
  
"I don't think it's much more than that," Rayven said, more because she had no idea what the dream meant then anything else. "I don't understand the bald thing."  
  
"I cut his hair like that once," Petunia said thoughtfully. "When he was very young. He had terrible hair, you understand, and it all..." Petunia cut off suddenly, realizing what she was about to say. "Well, it was embarrassing."  
  
"Quite," Rayven replied, she opened her mouth to continue, but the seamstress interrupted.  
  
"All finished, dearies!" She exclaimed, helping both women from their stools. "Take a look, eh?" She led them to the mirrors. Rayven looked down at the dress in wonder.  
  
'This is my WEDDING DRESS!' She squealed at the thought, while the two older women behind her exchanged knowing glances. She glanced at the clock and gasped.  
  
"Wow, it's been two hours already!" Rayven groaned. "And I still have to find two witnesses and..." She stopped suddenly. Petunia was investigating the dress in the mirror, and the seamstress was beaming behind her.  
  
"Hey!" Rayven exclaimed suddenly. "You two could be my witnesses!"  
  
"At your wedding?" Petunia asked, and Rayven nodded eagerly. "When is it?"  
  
"In an hour at St. Maria's Church in the next village over...will you come?" She asked anxiously.  
  
"I would be honored," Petunia smiled. The seamstress opened her mouth when a little bell tinkled, sound the arrival of a new customer.  
  
"I'm sorry, dearies, I'm needed here," With a smile, she bustled to the front of the shop.  
  
"I need a second witness!" Rayven exclaimed, sounding thoroughly distressed.  
  
"My husband will do it," Petunia mused. "If you let me go home and collect him, I can meet you at the church."  
  
"Oh thank you!" Rayven cried, throwing her arms around the other woman. "You don't know what this means to me!"  
  
"I'll see you there," Petunia smiled, leaving the shop with her dress in a bag and climbing into her car. After making sure no one was looking, Rayven apparated to her flat in search of make up.  
  
And that was how Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley became the only official witnesses for Ron Weasley and Rayven Michaels's wedding.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Rayven?"  
  
"Petunia!" Rayven greeted her default maid-of-honor happily at the door of the tiny church. "Ron's in the chapel with the priest. Um...I'll introduce you, I guess."  
  
"Me first," Petunia replied. "This is Vernon, my husband."  
  
"Pleasure," Vernon grunted, shaking hands with the blushing bride to be.  
  
"And besides, I'm not going to let you introduce us!" Petunia continued efficiently. "I will not allow bad luck on your wedding day. He cannot see you in that dress. Now, before we go in, are you wearing something old?"  
  
"Old?" Rayven asked, frowning. "Well, I've had these shoes forever..."  
  
"Good, and the dress is something new. Okay, anything blue?" Rayven showed Petunia the ribbons in her hair, which were blue and white, wondering what the heck she was on about. "Great!" Petunia smiled. "Now, where this." She handed Rayven an anklet.  
  
"What is this?" She asked.  
  
"It's an anklet," Petunia replied. "You have to wear something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue!"  
  
"You'd know better than I," Rayven laughed.  
  
"Now, we'll go introduce ourselves to the groom," Petunia said, pulling Vernon away. He waved at Rayven halfheartedly and allowed himself to be dragged into the church. Rayven, butterflies flitting around her stomach, ran into the tiny bathroom to...well...I'm not sure what she was doing, but you must remember; she was very nervous.  
  
"Mr. Weasley?" Ron looked up when he heard his name being called. He saw a tall, thin, blonde woman dragging a heavy-set man with balding dark hair and a large mustache.  
  
"Yes?" He asked, curious about who these people were and why they were interrupting his impromptu wedding.  
  
"Hi," The blonde said, approaching and holding out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Petunia Dursley, and this is my husband, Vernon."  
  
If Ron had been sipping a drink, he would've spit it out. If he had been holding something, he would've dropped it. However, he was doing neither, so he made up for it by paling several shades.  
  
"Rayven asked us to be your witnesses..." Mrs. Dursley continued, looking at Ron as if he weren't all there.  
  
"Of...of course," Ron tried to smile, digesting this. The Dursleys. THE DURSLEYS! Harry's aunt and Uncle! How did Rayven FIND these people?  
  
"I'll go find Rayven," Petunia said, smiling at Ron fondly. Ron swallowed his confusion and it suddenly occurred to him how ironic the situation was. "Vernon, stay here with Ron...may I call you Ron?"  
  
"Of course...Petunia," He smiled. 'Oh my God...' Ron thought to himself. 'I'm on better terms with Harry's aunt then Harry is. This is HILARIOUS!'  
  
"So, Vernon," Ron said, turning to Harry's intimidating uncle. "Uh...you like sports?"  
  
"Well, actually..."  
  
Petunia only shook her head as she walked back to Rayven. Men, enough said. She looked around the front of the church, and discovered Rayven nervously pacing around the bathroom.  
  
"You're going to indent the floor," Petunia remarked. Rayven jumped, startled, then turned around.  
  
"It's just...this is all so sudden," She wailed. "I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, and-"  
  
"Do you love him?" Petunia interrupted.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you love him?" She repeated.  
  
"Well, of course!" Rayven cried. "I've loved him forever, it's just-"  
  
"If you really love him, you'll be fine," Petunia reassured her. She then pulled out some flowers and handed them to the bride. "I didn't think you had remembered these."  
  
"No," Rayven sighed, accepting the roses. "Thank you."  
  
"Of course dear," Petunia smiled.  
  
Meanwhile, Ron and Vernon had stopped conversing completely. Vernon knew not to even try to talk to a man who's about to tie the knot. Ron was now understanding the groom's 'nervous before the wedding syndrome' he had never understood before. However, in Ron's opinion he had more cause to be nervous than the others, silly biased little boy he was.  
  
Was he doing the right thing? How had he suddenly just up and asked her to marry him, then suddenly, here he was, at the alter, in a matter of hours? This was ridiculous... wasn't it? This wasn't the way weddings were supposed to be!  
  
Ron had always envisioned a big wedding, with his whole family, and all his friends and acquaintances from Hogwarts. He imagined all the old traditions and a big party afterward and to be all psyched out from months of planning. He imagined his bride (who, before Ron met Rayven, had never really had a face) blushing as she walked down the aisle, her father's arm in hers. However, Rayven didn't have a father to speak of, as he had died years ago.  
  
Ron suddenly got a vision of Voldemort himself, dressed up in a tux and smiling proudly as he walked Rayven down the aisle, his catlike eyes looking down at Rayven fondly as she smiled up at him.  
  
Or not.  
  
The thought made him smile, even though it wasn't really funny. Well, nothing was the way he imagined it, really. Instead of a sunny day in August on a sloping meadow, it was May 21, drizzly, and in a tiny church. However, somehow, it seemed right to him this way. He took a deep breath. I'm doing the right thing, he told himself. It was true, and he knew it. Nothing could be wrong with marrying Rayven.  
  
However, as the music began, Ron got the urge to turn and bolt. 'Here comes the bride, all dressed in white...' Oh my God, Ron thought desperately, what am I doing? What if I'm not a good husband? What if Voldemort finds out? What if something happens? I CAN'T DO THIS!  
  
Then he saw her.  
  
She was, in a word, gorgeous. The dress was simpler than Hermione's, yet elegant. Her soft, auburn hair fell gently framed her smiling face, and her eyes were dancing. It was then that Ron realized that she was looking at him the same way Hermione had looked at Harry that day in December. He smiled down at her, feeling completely happy in a way he hadn't thought possible.  
  
Yes, he was DEFINITELY doing the right thing.  
  
He hardly heard a word the rambling priest said. He was too captivated with Rayven's beautiful golden eyes. He said the words 'I do,' in the awed sort of voice that Vernon recognized as an infatuated groom. He looked over at Petunia fondly, to see his wife wiping away tears.  
  
"I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride," Ron and Rayven did as the priest commanded (with no objection, of course), and Petunia blew her nose loudly. "I present you with Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley!"  
  
Petunia and Vernon held hands as they followed the newlyweds out of the church and into the Dursley's car. After only a brief discussion (dominated by the Dursleys) they decided on a nice little Italian restaurant, which just happened to be the same one Ron and Rayven had gone to on Valentine's Day.  
  
Ron was in Heaven; the food was great and so was the company...even the Dursleys. Of course, nothing could spoil the happiness of Ron's wedding, except possibly Voldemort. However, by some miracle, neither Ron nor Rayven was summoned that night. Fate seemed to be lending them a helping hand.  
  
The waiter took away their plates, and Ron stood and offered his hand to his new wife. She accepted gracefully, and on his request, the band struck up a song Ron had requested. It was a different band today, with guitars, drums, and a singer rather than the classical he had remembered from his last visit. Ron realized they were the only couple dancing.  
  
  
~ I could stay awake just to hear you breathing   
Watch you smile while you are sleeping   
While you're far away and dreaming   
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender   
I could stay lost in this moment forever   
Well, every moment spent with you   
Is a moment I treasure~  
  
  
"I'm in love with you," Ron whispered into her ear as they danced.  
  
"Are you?" She replied, trying to be amusing.  
  
"I've loved you since the moment I saw you," He continued. "You're more than just another pretty face, Rayven. You're perfect...sweet, funny, affectionate...the list of your qualities is endless. I must've done something wonderful in another life to have you."  
  
"You're making me cry," She said honestly, feeling tears well up in her eyes.  
  
"Don't," Ron pleaded. "I can't stand to see you upset."  
  
"I'm not upset," She whispered. "I'm in love."  
  
  
~ I don't wanna close my eyes   
I don't wanna fall asleep   
'Cause I'd miss you, baby   
And I don't wanna miss a thing   
'Cause even when I dream of you   
The sweetest dream would never do   
I'd still miss you, baby   
And I don't wanna miss a thing~  
  
  
Ron gently kissed the top of her head, and she nestled herself against him as he pulled her closer. He hadn't lied when he said he'd done something in another life to deserve this... this bliss was not something a murderer deserved. He looked down at her glowing face, realizing again how very in love he was with her. He didn't know it was possible to love someone like this.  
  
"Promise you'll always love me," Rayven murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck.  
  
"I promise."  
  
  
~ Lying close to you   
Feeling your heart beating   
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming   
Wondering if it's me you're seeing   
Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we're together   
And I just wanna stay with you   
In this moment forever, forever and ever~  
  
  
"I wish I could stay here forever," Rayven said.  
  
"So do I," Ron replied, smiling lovingly down at his wife. "But at least we'll have each other now, forever."  
  
"Forever," She repeated, as if trying to taste the word. "I like the sound of that."  
  
"Me too," He said, bringing her closer. "Me too." He sealed his statement with a kiss.  
  
  
~I don't wanna close my eyes   
I don't wanna fall asleep   
'Cause I'd miss you, baby   
And I don't wanna miss a thing   
'Cause even when I dream of you   
The sweetest dream would never do   
I'd still miss you, baby   
And I don't wanna miss a thing~  
  
  
"So, Mrs. Weasley..." She giggled at his words.  
  
"I like that," She said. "Mrs. Rayven Weasley. Yes, I like that a lot."  
  
"Do you?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "I always thought the name 'Weasley' was rather boring."  
  
"Nothing about you is boring," She assured him, pulling herself closer. "Except maybe your wife."  
  
"My wife..." Ron blinked, seeming to try to absorb this thought. "Of course she isn't boring! She's the most wonderful person I know!"  
  
"Really?" She winked, and he chuckled. Yes, this was perfect. He kissed her again. They weren't aware of the wistful sighs and knowing smiles around them, nor were they aware when other couples began dancing and the hours slipped away.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley knew nothing but each other.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Morning beautiful," Ron commented from the stove.  
  
"Ugh," Rayven replied, unceremoniously dropping into one of the kitchen chairs.  
  
"I see you're a real morning person," He joked. "I have pancakes, eggs, bacon and toast."  
  
"Good."  
  
"A WORD!" Ron exclaimed dramatically, as if this were a great revelation. "Amazing."  
  
"Shut up," She grumbled, but it was good-natured. She took the proffered plate and started devouring the food. Ron looked at her from across the table as he ate, realizing that he would be eating breakfast with her everyday for the rest of his life.   
  
That sounded just fine to him.  
  
"What are you staring at?" She asked, trying not to laugh.  
  
"You," He replied, shrugging and then returning to his breakfast. "You're beautiful."  
  
"As you have already said once this morning," She pointed out, smiling nonetheless. She was fingering the chain around her neck. The only thing on it was her wedding ring. The Weasleys had decided that it was better if no one knew of their marriage, which was sure to make them a target on both sides. Therefore, they had decided to wear their rings on identical chains around their necks. Rayven, the hopeless romantic, had suggested this, with a lot of gabble that sounded like poetry from some book or another.  
  
"I love you," Ron said out of nowhere, around his eggs and bacon.  
  
"I know," She said, rising to put her dish in the sink and kissing his forehead on the way past. "I love you too."  
  
Yep, Ron thought, I can definitely get used to this whole 'marriage thing'. He watched her disappear into the bedroom and come out a moment later fully dressed.  
  
"I'm going to get my stuff, then buy some supplies from Diagon Alley," She said, looking around for her purse. Ron nodded, slowly continuing with his breakfast. She located her confounded purse, and turned to disapparate.  
  
"Oh, and honey?"  
  
"Yes?" Ron replied.  
  
"Be a dear, and do the dishes please?" She smiled. "Thanks," And with a pop, she disapparated. Ron sighed and gazed at the sticky dishes.  
  
Okay, maybe marriage would be harder than he thought....  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron and Rayven's first month of wedded life passed without much incident with Ron only landing himself on the couch once...and that was over something stupid anyway. Within a week, neither could remember what it was.  
  
May had melted into June, and before he knew it, Ron found himself attending his little sister's graduation. It was the first time he had seen his family and the Potters since his hidden wedding, and he found himself bursting to tell them. However, he managed not to, knowing his mother would never forgive him for going and getting married without them. He decided he would have to think of some way to break the news...they were going to find out sooner or later, from him or otherwise.  
  
And of course, they both had Death Eater duties to attend to. When one didn't come home, the other always knew where their spouse was...out committing some heinous crime or another. Not exactly a warm and fuzzy feeling that, but there was nothing they could do about it.  
  
They still spent time with Draco, of course, but after much debate and discussion, they finally decided that they had better keep their marriage as secret from him as the others. It seemed very ironic to Ron that the only people to know their secret other than the priest that married them were the Dursleys. Rayven wrote Petunia all the time, and Ron found himself constantly pulling letters from Privet Drive out of the Muggle mailbox addressed to Mrs. Rayven Weasley.  
  
Soon, Ron and Rayven became comfortable being married. Even with all the turmoil of war around them, they had resumed a peaceful existence. Voldemort called mercilessly, but the Weasleys took it with the stiff upper lip you'd expect from two undercover spies. They managed to balance Voldemort, the Ministry, their friends and (in Ron's case) family, being married, and happiness.  
  
Who knew that such peace could be shattered?  
  
It was a bright sunny day in the first month of July when they received the owl. It was written in the shaky hand of one in shock, but Ron recognized it as Bill Croaker's.  
  
Ron-come to Ministry.  
  
Well, that was short, sweet, and to the point wasn't it? He called to Rayven, who frowned. "Is it from Bill?"  
  
"I think so..." Ron frowned. "I wonder what's wrong..."  
  
"We won't know if we don't go," Rayven pointed out. Nodding in agreement, Ron apparated to the sight, and heard Rayven do the same next to him.  
  
"Come on," Ron said, gesturing for her to follow him. They marched through the halls and up the stairs, not running into much trouble until they reached the Unspeakable corridor. Frowning, Ron tried to work his way in, but the authorities weren't letting him anywhere.  
  
"Ron!" The voice was that of Draco, who pushed a young someone out of his way. "Rayven! Thank God you two are here."  
  
"What happened?" Rayven asked, her eyes wide with worry.  
  
"Come on in," He said, waving them into the crowded hallway. They slowly progressed through the crowds, stopping at...  
  
"Oh no," Ron muttered, his eyes wide at the sight of yellow tape around the doorway leading into Bill and Dennis's office. Draco beckoned them inside. Ron's first glimpse was not one he much liked; a lot of aurors running around, and Bill, sitting on his desk and staring off into space with wide-eyed shock.  
  
"Bill?" Rayven asked delicately, putting a hand on his shoulder gently. Ron's eyebrows knitted together, distressed over seeing his stouthearted companion in this state.  
  
"He's in there," Bill said dazedly, pointing to the tiny room in which he and Dennis took turns sleeping. With a curious glance at Draco, who was looking at Bill sympathetically, Ron pushed his way inside the room, Rayven at his heels. He stopped abruptly once inside.  
  
"Oh Jesus..." Rayven gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. There, on the ground lie Dennis Bode.   
  
Or rather, his corpse. 


	6. Revelations

A/N Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews, as always, they're what keep me going!  
  
I hope you all liked the wedding. As I said before, everything is happening very quickly, and (I'm rather sad to say) this story is almost finished (already). As you will see, everything is beginning to wrap up.  
  
Okay, there's really not much else to say, so I'm just going to shut up and let you read. Have fun kiddies, and don't forget to review! ^_~  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Five:  
Revelations  
  
~Maybe I've been here before  
I know this room and I've walked these floors  
I used to live alone before I know you  
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a vict'ry march  
It's a cold, and it's a broken Hallelujah~  
  
*Rufus Wainwright's "Hallelujah"  
  
  
"Please, sit down," Fudge sighed, gesturing to the four waiting seats. Ron chose the one closest to the door, with Rayven on his right, then Severus and Bill. The all stared at the Minister fixedly, waiting for instructions. He realized they were all looking at him, and sighed heavily.  
  
"We have lost two of you in the last four months," Fudge said. "First Miss Angel Pentser, and now Dennis Bode. I am sure you all will be grieving for our loss, but I must remind you, all of you except Mr. Croaker, of course, that you are not to attend the funeral."  
  
"Voldemort has been after Dennis for a long time," Ron said quietly. However, even those near whispered words caught the attention of everyone, even if it was a fact they already knew.  
  
"Dennis had no family since his beloved niece died," Ron felt a pang of guilt at Bill's words, and looked down, suddenly becoming very interested with the hem of his robes. "So I will take over the funerary procedures."  
  
"Very well," Fudge nodded. "Angel was unique, and even if we wanted to find a replacement it would be impractical. However, Bill cannot work alone. There are several new recruits training to be in your department, and-"  
  
"You're giving us a rookie?" Draco asked, looking appalled.  
  
"The top of the class, I assure you," Fudge said. "We will take the number one recruit after training and...well...introduce them to the situation."  
  
"This is ridiculous," Ron pointed out. "This is a very dangerous post, Minister, and I would think after today you would realize this. We need someone with lots of experience!"  
  
"Everyone else is otherwise occupied," Fudge replied.  
  
"I think the Minister is right," Rayven said. "We need someone new, someone who can entirely devote themselves to this project, and not have their minds on some secret mission in Bulgaria."  
  
Of course, everyone saw the logic in this. That didn't stop Draco and Ron from putting up a fight. The debate seemed endless, until...  
  
"Silence," The voice was Severus's, and just like the Hogwarts Potions Master, Severus the Death Eater immediately brought the silence he commanded. "Ron, Draco, the Minister has made up his mind, and I don't think it is in your power to dissuade him. I motion that we all go home and cope with our loss."  
  
"Quite," The Minister said. Ron marveled at Severus's ability to win the argument without taking either side. "Now, there's also something else I'd like to bring up." He leaned in toward the four sitting across from him. "You are all in grave danger, not just from You-Know-Who, but also from the Ministry. I know you all swore to silence if you were caught, but in these dangerous times any of you might be in the middle of something or needed out of prison. Therefore, I am giving you these." He pulled out four envelopes. Ron took his, opened it, and pulled out the paper inside. He felt his jaw drop.  
  
A full pardon. For any crime, on any date or time. Signed by Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. Ron looked up to find that the others were as surprised as he was.  
  
"You can only use them once, obviously," Fudge explained. "And it will probably cause you and me all kinds of trouble, so only use it in the most dire of emergencies. But if such a scenario arises and you need out, I won't have time to fill out all the paperwork. Keep them hidden somewhere safe, and make sure the others know where yours is."  
  
"Alright," Ron finally managed to say, and the others did the same thing. It wasn't that he was flattered, it was just that he was...shocked. He didn't know Fudge had the intelligence or the future vision to think of something like this. Maybe he was a good Minister after all. However, it was also, once again, dawning on him how much danger he was in.  
  
And how much danger Rayven was in.  
  
"Goodbye to you all, and I will send for you when the new recruits are done training." Fudge said, gesturing them away and going back to his paperwork. Draco muttered something (most likely quite rude) under his breath, but shook hands with the Minister anyway before taking his leave. The others did the same.  
  
"I don't like this at all," Rayven muttered to herself as she sat down in an armchair, her brow creased.  
  
"Me neither," Ron replied.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Ron shouted as loud as possible when Harry answered the door. His friend grinned, and gestured that he should come in.  
  
"Great to see you, Ron," Harry said, thumping him on the back heartily. "Haven't seen you in a while."  
  
"It's great to see you too," Ron conceded. "Where's the missus?"  
  
"If you call me that one more time, Ronald Weasley, I'll slap you across the face!" Hermione exclaimed, coming up behind Harry and trying to look angry, but her twitching mouth betrayed her underlying amusement.  
  
"Hello to you too, Herm," Ron rolled his eyes, but he was grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"Don't get me into trouble, Ron," Harry begged. "She's vicious."  
  
"Stuck on the sofa recently, Mr. Potter?" Ron teased. Hermione laughed, nodding. Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"Never get married, Ron, it's terrible. You have absolutely no idea what it's like," He groaned.  
  
"It's a little late for that," Ron muttered under his breath, but luckily neither of the Potters heard him.   
  
Hermione gestured for Ron to follow her. He met Sirius, Remus, Seamus, Lavender (Seamus's new fiancée), Dean, Angelina (Dean's wife), Neville, Hermione's parents and Ron's entire family in the family room, waiting for them. There was laughter and goodwill in the air, nearly suffocating Ron.  
  
Yes sir-ee ladies and gents, it was Harry Potter's nineteenth birthday party.  
  
Ron did manage to enjoy himself, even though he was stuck in a room full of people who really knew nothing about his life. He wished Rayven had come, but she had somehow wormed her way out of it, saying something about 'shopping' and 'decent food'. Well humph to her! Ron thought. Wasn't chocolate ice cream a good dinner?  
  
Lunch, cake, presents, gossip...Ron nodded and smiled and even laughed on occasion. He imagined (not for the first or last time) that he was one of these happy, carefree people with nothing more to do than talk about who was marrying who and so on and so forth. It was not until Ron knew everything about everyone and his uncle that Harry and Hermione decided it was Time.  
  
Hermione stood, and politely requested everyone's attention. Happy to oblige, the crowd sat in silence, waiting for whatever was to come. Ron found himself getting rather irritated with all the suspense. Hermione was looking from the faces of her friends, then down to Harry (who would smile reassuringly and nod with encouragement) then back to her friends again. After nearly a minute of this, she suddenly blurted it out.  
  
"I'm pregnant." Silence. Then...  
  
"OH MY GOD!" The squeal came from Ginny, but it was all that was needed. The women rushed up to hug and congratulate Hermione, while the men shook hands with Harry.  
  
"A baby?" Ron asked. "Geez, Harry, I never imagined you as a father."  
  
"Yeah, well..." He grinned sheepishly. "I can't wait to be one. I think."  
  
"I'm sure you'll do fine," Sirius said, recognizing the look of doubt on Harry's face.  
  
"Yeah, Harry, don't worry about it," Neville said, looking quite relieved that he wasn't in Harry's shoes. The girls, meanwhile, were gabbing and fussing over Hermione, and Ron could hear his mother over them all.  
  
"Well, it will be interesting to say the least," Fred said with a grin.  
  
"Yeah, we'll have an unsuspecting kid to try our products on!" George said, winking at Harry and avoiding a blow from his mother. The chaos continued for some time, and by the time everyone was breathing properly again, they were apparating home.  
  
"Hold on a second, Ron," Hermione said, putting a hand on her red haired friend's shoulder. "Can you stay for a moment?"  
  
"Sure," Ron shrugged, plopping back down onto the sofa. Ron decided not to ask until everyone had left, which proved to be a wise decision.  
  
"So, what's up?"  
  
"Ron, you know that this is really dangerous," Hermione said.  
  
"What's really dangerous?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes. "Everything with Harry is 'really dangerous." More than you know, he thought to himself.  
  
"The baby," Hermione bit her lip. "He or she is going to be in a lot of danger."  
  
"And we don't want to take that risk," Harry said, coming up behind Hermione and putting an arm around her waist. Ron suddenly felt a surge of jealousy that the Potters could show the world their love...but it was just as dangerous for them as it would've been for him. He kept the thought to himself.  
  
"Understandable," Ron nodded, reaching for his soda "What's that got to do with me?" Harry and Hermione exchanged meaningful glances.  
  
"We want to use the Fidelius Charm," Harry said, looking down at his wife. Ron spit out the soda he had been coolly sipping. "And make you our secret keeper."  
  
"M...me?" Ron spluttered. They couldn't make him secret keeper, he was a DEATH EATER for Christ's sake!  
  
"Of course you," Hermione said smoothly. "We wouldn't dream of letting anyone else."  
  
"But surely Dumbledore-"  
  
"He's far too busy for such things, Ron," Harry interrupted. He was giving his friend a funny look. "Unless you don't want to be secret keeper..."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous!" Ron said, knowing perfectly well that he HIMSELF was the ridiculous one. How did he get himself into these messes? "I would be honored. I just wanted to make sure you had considered all your options."  
  
"Oh," Harry replied, looking considerably relieved. "Well, you don't have to worry about it just yet. We're going to wait until the baby's born."  
  
"When's it due?" Ron asked, suppressing a gulp.  
  
"Around October," Hermione replied. "You should get home, Ron, you look sick."  
  
"I'm fine," Ron assured her, but rose anyway. "I'm not going to do it unless you're sure...?"  
  
"Of course we're sure," Harry smiled. "I don't want to make the same mistake my parents did and entrust my family to a Death Eater."  
  
Ron seriously thought he was going to be sick.  
  
"Of...of course," He stuttered. "Well, I've got to get home...tiring day you know. Um, goodbye and...er...Happy birthday, Harry." With an awkward wave he disapparated. He was never more relieved then when he found Rayven and dinner waiting for him.  
  
"Hey, Ron, I was looking around today and...Ron?" Rayven looked at her husband in concern. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Harry wants me to be his secret keeper," Ron blurted out, falling into his chair.  
  
"What?" She gasped in disbelief.  
  
"Yeah, and here's the funny part," He continued with a sardonic laugh. "He said, and I quote here, 'I don't want to make the same mistake my parents did and entrust my family to a Death Eater'."  
  
"Oh Ron," She said, coming up to him and rubbing his shoulders. "It's okay. I'm sure something good must've happened today."  
  
"Hermione's going to have a baby." He said with a pained look at his wife. She immediately understood what he meant.  
  
"Oh no..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Well, this should be interesting," Rayven said optimistically.  
  
"Yeah, right," Draco snorted.  
  
"As long as he's not incompetent," Ron muttered.  
  
"Creevey's still in school, and Potter's an auror," Draco pointed out. Ron simply rolled his eyes.  
  
"Creevey graduated," Severus interrupted.  
  
"Well, that would just figure," Draco said. "We get stuck with Creevey as our Ministry contact." He shuddered at the thought.  
  
"Who's Creevey?" Rayven asked curiously.  
  
"You don't even want to know," Draco, Severus, and Ron said in unison. They looked at each other, all three shocked at this sign of friendship.  
  
"JINX!" Ron shouted, and looked at them smugly. Draco rolled his eyes, and Severus just shook his head.  
  
"You three scare me," Rayven said, trying not to laugh.  
  
The four of them were standing outside the Ministry building, procrastinating. None of them were quite looking forward to what lie ahead: a date with the Minister. Today they would find out who would be taking Dennis's spot as their second Unspeakable counterpart. He (or she, as Rayven would've pointed out) had finished top of his (or her) class of trainees, and would be filled on in the assignment for the first time today, with the Two-Faced Circle present.  
  
They dawdled in, taking far too much time. Therefore, they were about twenty minutes late. However, Fudge didn't seem to mind. Quite on the contrary, he was mumbling to himself and seemed very flustered. Ron took this as a bad sign.  
  
"Where is he?" Draco demanded.  
  
"Bill will accompany her in in a moment," Fudge replied.  
  
"Did you say 'her', Minister?" Rayven asked, her eyes lighting up. When Fudge nodded, she did a little dance in her seat. "Our Ministry contact is a woman! Yes! Finally, some common sense around here!"  
  
"Oh Lord," Severus muttered under his breath. Ron had to agree.  
  
"Well, where is SHE?" Draco asked, glaring at Rayven, who smiled sweetly in return.  
  
"She's coming!" Fudge snapped. Just as Draco was about to reply, there came a knock from a small door behind the Minister's desk. "Ah, that's them." And he turned to open the door. In walked William Croaker, accompanied by...  
  
Ginny Weasley.  
  
"Ginny?" Ron asked, looking at his sister curiously.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"What are you doing here?" They demanded in unison.  
  
"I'm here to get information on an assignment for the Department of Mysteries," Ginny replied proudly. Ron's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Furious, he leapt to his feet, glowering down at the Minister.  
  
"SHE'S the new Unspeakable?!" He shouted. "My baby SISTER?!"  
  
"She finished top of her training class," Fudge replied smoothly.  
  
"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Ron cried. "I REFUSE to let my sister replace a man who was just MURDERED!" Draco and Rayven, who were sitting on either side of Ron, leapt to their feet, and tried (unsuccessfully) to make him sit down again.  
  
"She's the best one for the job," The Minister stated stubbornly.  
  
"I'll quit," Ron said fiercely.  
  
"WHAT?!" Rayven, Draco, Severus, Bill and Fudge cried in unison.  
  
"Ron, you wouldn't!" Rayven cried, very distraught.  
  
"You can't," Draco pointed out.  
  
"Mr. Weasley," Fudge began.  
  
"Minister," A cold voice interrupted. It was that of Severus. "I don't believe this is a good idea. Ron is under enough stress without putting his family in such danger." The words, along with Draco and Rayven's combined efforts, made Ron take his seat, even though he was still breathing heavy and glaring at the Minister.  
  
"Excuse me," Ginny said, looking at the five of them curiously. "What's going on here?"  
  
Everyone, even Fudge and Bill, turned to Ron. He looked at them all in turn, then his eyes rested on Ginny. He knew that this is what she wanted, and he knew she would be good at it. But damn it, she was in so much danger!  
  
But her eyes were pleading...  
  
"Go ahead," He finally muttered. "She IS the best person for the job. I promise not to quit...like I had a choice or something" Rayven let out a sigh of relief and Draco looked surprise, but also, in his hidden silver eyes, there was a flicker of respect and pride.  
  
"Very well," Fudge said, nodding approvingly in Ron's direction. He then turned back to Ginny. "Miss Weasley, the four people in front of you are Death Eaters."  
  
Perhaps this was not the best way to start out the conversation. First, Ginny's eyes expanded to about twice their size. "Then why don't you arrest them, they're a danger to society..." Then she realized her brother was among them. "Oh my God, Ron, how could you DO this to us?" She was babbling and pointing and quite frankly acting rather childish. Severus and Draco exchanged Slytherin looks.  
  
"Miss Weasley, I was not finished yet," Fudge said irritably. She halted abruptly, but she was still staring at Ron with wide eyes. He simply shrugged in return. "These four people are also Unspeakables. They are spies." Everyone looked at Ginny, waiting for her response.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Your mission," Fudge said importantly. "Is to take their reports. You and Bill here will stay up at night, then take turns going home in the morning and sleeping here. One of these four will come to you, almost nightly, and give you a full report of You-Know-Who's latest movements. They all have different jobs."  
  
"I'm a mass Muggle killer," Severus said thoughtfully, as if he were making the term up for himself.  
  
"I'm a thief," Draco grinned devilishly. "And a kidnapper, when duty calls. I'm in the Innercircle."  
  
"I'm a straight out murderer," Rayven said.  
  
"I am too," Ron met his sister's steady gaze with unwavering eyes. "I'm the Innercircle Assassin."  
  
Ginny opened her mouth to try and say something, but no words came out. She managed to make some sort of unintelligible syllable, but her mind couldn't form a response to this extraordinary pronouncement. Ron merely raised his eyebrows challengingly. It was Bill who spoke.  
  
"These four people," Bill said quietly, "Have seen all the Hells of Voldemort. They can tell you things that will give you nightmares for years. They kill and lie and steal, sacrificing their lives and their freedom so they can save that of others. Your job isn't as hard as theirs, but you know when one of them comes in shaking and stuttering that you want nothing more than to hide under your blanket and wish to wake up. You know these people personally, Ginny Weasley. Your teacher, your schoolmate...you brother, for Christ's sake! Can you handle it? Do you accept your mission?"  
  
She looked into each pair of eyes. The deep, never-ending tunnels of Snape, the liquid silver of Draco, the eerie gold of Rayven, and the crystal clear blue of Ron. In each pair of eyes she saw the same demons and ghosts and emptiness. She stuck out her chin, her eyes not leaving those of her brother.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Croaker. I accept."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Needless to say, Ron was in a state of high agitation in the following weeks. The thought of Ginny in the position of a potential murder victim was enough to send him into a panic attack. However, Rayven managed to keep him under control. Draco remained close in touch, and they still went out together. Ron once suggested they invite Ginny, but it was decided all around that this would be too awkward, and that the time they would want to go out was probably when she was sleeping anyway.  
  
August was slipping away, and the Hogwarts students were soon boarding the train. Ron, as he usually did in September, thought about all that had changed since his first time boarding the Hogwarts express. Sensing his pensive mood, Rayven gave him such much-needed alone time. Ron also thought about his wife. It still baffled him: how well she understood him, how she knew just what to do...how much he loved her.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were snuggled up on the sofa watching a sappy movie that Ron had deemed a 'chick flick' one night in mid September when they both leapt up at the same time, pain searing into their arms.  
  
"Damn it!" Rayven swore with feeling. Grabbing their cloaks, they promptly disapparated to Voldemort's lair.  
  
"Ah, there you are," Voldemort said, even though he knew they had arrived in less than ten seconds. "I was just getting impatient."  
  
"My apologies, my Lord," Ron said, bowing. Rayven said nothing. Ron was a higher-ranking Death Eater, so it was his responsibility to do all the talking. "What do you wish?"  
  
"I have an errand," The Dark Lord replied. "I meant to go myself, but I am needed elsewhere."  
  
"Anything you wish, Lord," Ron replied, waiting for his instruction. Voldemort smiled coldly, and Rayven shivered slightly. Luckily, he didn't notice. Her beloved husband was now nothing like the Ron she knew and loved...he was cold and heartless. And a fabulous actor, she reminded herself.  
  
"You, Mr. Weasley, are in my Innercircle as my Assassin," Voldemort said, stating the obvious. "Miss Michaels," Rayven looked up suddenly at the sound of her maiden name. "You would be in the Innercircle too, if I had not already Mr. Weasley's services. Therefore, I believe that for this job I shall send you both."  
  
"As you wish, of course, my Lord," Rayven replied, bowing, since he was obviously still addressing her.  
  
"Good, good... Now, I need the Boots killed," He snapped. "All of them. Tonight." Ron and Rayven bowed in response. "Go," Voldemort hissed, and they obeyed, apparating back to the street outside their flat.  
  
"The Boots?" Rayven asked, raising an eyebrow at Ron.  
  
"Terry Boot," Ron said. "I went to school with him. He married this other girl I knew, Hannah Abbott. Last I heard they just had twins."  
  
"WHAT?!" Rayven shrieked, far too loud for somewhere so public. "Children? We have to kill children?"  
  
"Stop it, Rayven, you're getting hysterical." Ron said sternly. Then, after a brief discussion, they apparated to the Boot residence.  
  
The house was on the edge of a small town, as several indiscreet magical homes were. It was dark and silent. Ron prayed that the family was asleep, but he was not so fortunate. And anyway, as he waited for Rayven to disarm the wards protecting the house, he clicked into Death Eater mode.  
  
It was far to late for the Boots now.  
  
Terry and Hannah Boot were having tea and crumpets when the two dark robed figures came in. By the time they registered the presence of Death Eaters in their home Terry was dead and one of the figures was approaching Hannah. She turned and tried to run up to her two sleeping children. She had joined her husband before she reached the staircase.  
  
"Good job, Rayven," Ron said coldly.  
  
"You too," She nodded toward Terry's body. "Shall we go to the Ministry?" Ron gave her a funny look from under his mask.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," He said, stepping over Hannah and approaching the stairs. "The jobs not finished yet."  
  
"The children!" Rayven cried, horrified. Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"If you don't hurry up, the Ministry's going to catch us," He hissed. Gulping, she followed him.  
  
The Boot twins were just over a year old, and sleeping peacefully in identical cribs in the nursery. Ron took one, and motioned for Rayven to take the other. He looked down at the sleeping child with nothing at all in his eyes. His only thought, as he raised his wand, was at least this child would die innocent, unlike him.  
  
"Avada Kedavra,"  
  
The demeanor of the sleeping boy did not change as he was killed. Ron looked only once more at him before turning to collect Rayven and disapparate. However, this plan was altered when he realized the other child was still asleep, and Rayven was staring at him as if her were the Prince of Darkness.  
  
"What is your problem?" Ron asked, annoyed. She just stared. "Rayven, hello!" He snapped. "Why is that child still alive."  
  
"You killed him," She said faintly. He rolled his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, and this one needs to die too!" He approached the crib, and looked down at the other boy the same expressionless way he had at his twin.  
  
"But Ron..." She looked at the sleeping boy, and started to cry. "I can't, Ron, he's so young, so innocent, he didn't do anything!" She cried. At the sight of his wife's tears, Ron's Death Eater mode snapped.  
  
"It's okay," He said, wrapping her into his arms. She sobbed onto his shoulder. "You have to be strong," He whispered, stroking her hair. "You have to be brave."  
  
"I can't," She sobbed. He brought her out where he could see her eyes. He was amazed to find, in the deeps of those gold orbs a great fear and pain. She really couldn't kill this child.  
  
"Go to the Ministry," He said quietly, kissing her forehead. "I'll finish this."  
  
"Thank you," She whispered. She then turned and disappeared. Ron turned back to the child. He had the insane, temporary urge to take the boy and run, but he knew it was impossible. So, this child met the same fate of his twin.  
  
However, Ron realized, this time he was crying.  
  
He controlled himself and apparated to the Ministry building and found Rayven waiting for him.  
  
"I didn't want to go in without you," She said, giving him a wobbly smile. He put an arm around her, and led her upstairs to the office of Bode and Croaker...er...Weasley and Croaker. Ron still hadn't really accepted the fact that his sister was the Unspeakable.  
  
"Ron! Rayven!" She said brightly when they entered. Then she caught the look on Rayven's face. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Get out your notebook," Ron instructed. Bill immediately complied. After making sure he was ready his glance uneasily shifted to his sister.  
  
"Who was it?" She asked, staring him down determinedly.  
  
"The Boots," Ron finally sighed, flopping into a chair.  
  
"The Boots?" Ginny repeated. "As in Terry and Hannah Boot? Don't they have a kid?"  
  
"The DID have twins," Rayven answered.  
  
"They're orphans now," Ginny sighed, sitting down in her own chair. Ron, Bill, and Rayven exchanged looks.  
  
"No," Ron replied. "I killed them too." Ginny looked up at Ron in horror. Suddenly, he lost his temper.  
  
"What is your problem?!" He exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "You wanted this damn job, and this is what you get in it! Jesus, Ginny, did you expect to only half complete my orders and just kill the parents? When I said 'the Boots', I meant ALL of them! And if you think-"  
  
"Ron," Rayven interrupted soothingly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. She doesn't have your experience."  
  
"Damn right," He snapped. "I'm going home, you fill them in."  
  
"Alright," She said. "Go home and get a cup of tea and you'll feel better, I promise." She smiled. Somehow, seeing her smile made him feel better already. He gave her a quick kiss then apparated away.  
  
"You just kissed my brother," Ginny said stupidly. Rayven raised an eyebrow.  
  
"And...?"  
  
"Nothing," Ginny shook her head. "So, what happened precisely?"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Perhaps it was because he was a Death Eater. Perhaps it was because they were so powerful. Perhaps it was because his sister was an Unspeakable. But, more likely, it was to be credited to sheer dumb luck. In any case, the fact remained. Voldemort hadn't touched a member of Ron's family.  
  
But that was all about to change.  
  
He and Rayven were playing chess that evening, about two weeks after the Boot incident. Rayven was magnificent chess player, and had so far beaten Ron twice. However, tonight it was obvious that Ron was going to win. He was triumphantly reaching for his rook when he suddenly convulsed and stood up.  
  
"What is it?" Rayven asked frantically.  
  
"Summons," He replied. Rayven's eyes widened. She grabbed his cloak and tossed it to him. She blinked, and he was gone.  
  
He had, in fact, gone to the clearing Voldemort had summoned him to. He could see the tall outlined form of the Dark Lord, and next to him the pale shadow of one of the Malfoys. He was just getting his bearings when...  
  
"RON!" A raspy voice cried out. Ron looked down to see a red haired man in a torn and ragged robe trying to crawl over to him. "RUN! Save yourself!"  
  
"Percy?" Ron breathed disbelievingly. It was indeed his older brother. However, Ron's immediate desire to cry out had to be bitten down. He was in front of his master. He must show no weakness.  
  
"Run, Ron, he's here! THE DARK LORD IS HERE!"  
  
"Obviously," Voldemort said, sounding sickeningly amused. "Mr. Weasley," He continued, addressing Percy. "I don't believe I've introduced you to my number one assassin, have I?"  
  
Oh God, Ron thought. No, this cannot be happening. THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING TO ME!  
  
"Wh...what?" Percy asked, looking at Voldemort in terror and confusion.  
  
"This is him now. His name is Ron. I believe you have met him before?" Voldemort placed an icy hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron wanted nothing more, at that moment, then to kill Voldemort. However, since this wasn't exactly an option, he was forced to play his part and look coldly down at Percy, who only stared up in horrified disbelief. Ron couldn't take that stare for more than a few moments, so he turned his gaze to the other figure. Luckily, he discovered it to be the younger Malfoy. He saw sympathy in Draco's eyes.  
  
"Well, I believe it is time for the main event. I believe I shall invite a few friends, if it's all the same to you, Mr. Weasley?" Gasping and in obvious pain, Percy couldn't answer. That was fine, Voldemort wasn't expecting one. He left Ron's side (much to Ron's relief) to summon...whomever. Percy was simply staring at his youngest brother. Ron tried to tell him with his eyes that he wasn't really a Death Eater, but Percy saw nothing but a merciless murderer.  
  
Ron tore his eyes away, unable to bear it any longer. He looked up just in time to realize that Voldemort had summoned the eight remaining members of the Innercircle, and that they had taken their places in the circle around him. Voldemort began to address his servants.  
  
"Gentlemen," He said calmly. "I have summoned you here to meet my new guest. Say hello, Mr. Weasley." Percy only stared defiantly at Ron in return. Ron heard the Death Eater next to him, Fred Flemming, snicker, and had to tighten all the muscles in his right arm not to hit him.   
  
"Let the games begin," Voldemort said with one of his terrible smiles. He raised his wand, and Ron braced himself for the worst. He was not disappointed.  
  
"Crucio,"  
  
Percy lay in the middle of the circle, screaming and twisting and calling for help. Voldemort circled around him, continuing to address the Death Eaters as calmly as ever. Ron stared at the scene, and found himself blocking out the sound so effectively that his brother's screams were only dim echoes, and he saw only a blur of color. Everything seemed so surreal. He wondered what Voldemort was talking about. He imagined, for a moment Voldemort's babbling...  
  
"Now everyone, don't forget about our bake sale next Saturday. Everyone is to bring in something, and don't forget, there will be prizes for the best! Fun and games all day, and with any luck, we'll earn enough for that trip to the zoo we've been discussing. Lucius, I'm counting on my favorite peanut butter brownies!"  
  
Or not.  
  
Ron was jerked back into reality by the ceasing of his brother's screams. Voldemort had lifted the spell. Ron was too late to realize that he was looking away, instead of directly at Percy as the other Death Eaters were.  
  
"Ron," Voldemort hissed, and Ron nearly jumped at hearing the Dark Lord address him in such a familiar matter. "Why do you not watch? Does the sight of your brother's pain...disturb you?"  
  
"Of course not, my lord," Ron answered, raising his chin proudly. "It hurts my honor deeply, to see one of my own flesh deny your power."  
  
"Ah," Voldemort replied, seeming satisfied. "Then, with my assassin out of order, whom shall I give the honors to?" Ron nearly let out a breath of relief. He obviously said the right thing. Voldemort was going to make him kill his own brother!  
  
"Draco Malfoy," Voldemort said suddenly, and Draco looked up. "Pull out your wand," The Dark Lord instructed. Draco obeyed. "I give you the honors." Voldemort swept out of Draco's way, leaving him free to kill Percy. Draco looked up across the circle, and met Ron's eyes.  
  
Ron read the silver orbs as plain as day. Draco was asking him permission.  
  
Ron looked from Draco down to Percy, who was shaking at his feet, and then to Voldemort, who looked amused. It was obvious Voldemort knew exactly what was going on. Ron looked again at Draco, Percy, and the Dark Lord. Percy's eyes were begging for mercy, Draco's seemed to be almost saying aloud 'We can take him and run! We can get away!' But Ron knew that wasn't possible. He looked, once again, at Percy. His brother met his eyes, identical pairs of crystal blue orbs peered into each other, and then Ron did the hardest thing he had ever done before.  
  
One simple nod of his head was all it took.  
  
"Avada Kedavra,"  
  
Percy's body simply sagged into a pitiful position on the ground. Ron's shoulder's sagged, but he forced his head upright. He was staring straight forward, but he couldn't make anything out around the black spots of rage and guilt flitting in front of him.  
  
Ron was dimly aware of being dismissed, and apparated without thinking about it. The emotions surging through were making his magic even stronger than usual. He had to take several breaths of clean, wholesome air from the front of the Ministry building before he could even think of going inside.  
  
"Hey, Ron, are you okay?" Draco's voice pierced into his thoughts, and as Ron turned to him the spots receded somewhat. He sighed.  
  
"I'm fine, Draco," He replied.  
  
"Can you walk?" Draco asked, sounding unconvinced.  
  
"Of course I can walk!" Ron snapped. However, when he went to take a step to demonstrate this point, he discovered his legs were like jelly and were not supporting him. Draco caught his arm.  
  
"Sure," He said sarcastically. "You can walk just fine."  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron snapped, but allowed Draco to help him up to the office Ginny and Bill occupied. Oh God, Ron thought, Ginny. I'm going to have to tell Ginny that I...  
  
They reached the door, and Ron gulped down his thoughts as Draco pushed open the door. For a moment, they glimpsed the scene as it was before they interrupted it. Instead of talking or playing cards like they usually did, Bill was reading the paper, and Ginny was biting her lip as she pursued an upside-down book. Tension was palpable in the air. As soon as she heard the door, however, Ginny's head snapped up. She flew to her brother.  
  
"Ron!" She cried, flinging herself at him so frantically she didn't even realize the look he had on his face, or the fact that he was supported by Draco. "I've been trying to get a hold of you! It's Percy, he went missing, and-" She suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, after getting a good look at her brother's face. "Ron, what's wrong?"  
  
Ron tried to answer her. He really, really did. But words...words failed him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came. He merely sunk to the floor, landing in a heap while staring at the ground. The black spots were getting worse, and they were now blurred with tears. Bill stood up in alarm.  
  
"Take him into the bedroom," He instructed Draco. The other nodded, helping Ron to his feet.  
  
"No," Ron protested feebly. "I have to...Ginny..."  
  
"I'll do the talking," Draco said firmly, practically shoving Ron into the room. He landed on the bed with a soft flump. "I'll send Ginny in in a moment."  
  
"But-" Ron started, but he had nothing left. By this point he was practically blind, so he just let himself fall over onto the pillow. Draco shut the door, and turned to find the other Weasley looking right through him.  
  
"He's dead," She said dully. "Percy's dead, isn't he?"  
  
"I would use the phrase 'put him out of his misery' myself," Draco replied, avoiding her eye. His mind traveled back to seventh year...  
  
"Oh whatever!" She snapped. "I can't believe you could just stand there and watch him die. And Ron too, couldn't he-"  
  
"Get himself killed and endanger the entire mission?" Draco snapped. "Well, I suppose he could have."  
  
"You know that's not what I meant," Ginny said quietly.  
  
"Yeah, but that's what you were saying!" He yelled back, very impatient. "Jesus Ginny, didn't you see the look on his face? He loved his brother, and would've died to save him if he thought it would've done any good. Why can't you understand that? You're the only one who can, Ginny, the rest of his family could never..." He realized he was ranting, took a deep breath, and composed himself. "I just think you should try," He said. "To understand with it was like for him. Try to get out of your own goddamned world long enough to think about someone else! Ginny, if you would only listen-"  
  
He was really losing it now. His mind was no longer in the office with Bill, nor was he yelling for Ron's sake. His mind was whirring backward through time, landing him an empty classroom over a two years ago, to a very similar argument with Ginny...  
  
"DRACO!" She interrupted, and he stopped short. The world around him suddenly came into focus, and he nearly blushed.  
  
"Just, go talk to him, alright?" He mumbled. She nodded, and approached the closed door. Then, taking a deep breath, she marched inside. Draco got a glimpse of Ron raising his head and saying his sister's name before the door closed behind them.  
  
"So, I'm taking it this has something to do with their brother?" Bill asked. Draco jumped, he had nearly forgotten Bill was there. He nodded, and sat down to tell the story.  
  
Draco had needed to steal a document from the Department of Magical Cooperation, which Percy had been the head of. Unfortunately, Percy had been there when Draco had arrived, so Draco had been forced to take the Weasley as well as the document. Voldemort had tortured him, for entertainment as much as for information, for hours before Ron arrived. And then, of course, Draco had killed him. Bill whistled as he finished his notes with a flourish.  
  
"Sounds like a pretty soap opera to me," He said.  
  
"I agree," Draco replied nodding. At that moment, Ginny and Ron emerged from the room. Ginny's face was tearstained, but not as grief worn as Ron's. However, Ron could walk, so that was a good sign. He looked around the room, and then said his goodbyes and disapparated. Bill muttered something about turning in his report and discreetly disappeared. In next to no time, Draco found himself alone with Ginny. An uncomfortable silence fell on them. Draco decided it was his responsibility to break the ice.  
  
"Are you going to be okay?" He asked. She took a shuddering breath, but when she spoke, her voice was steady.  
  
"Yes, Draco. I'll be fine."  
  
"Because, if you're not, you know..." What the hell was he saying? Luckily he didn't have to find out.  
  
"No, no, I'm really fine," She insisted. "I think Percy would've wanted to die nobly anyway."  
  
"Gryffindors are rather fond of it, I hear," Draco smiled. She smiled sadly back at him.  
  
"We are, aren't we?" She asked absently. Then she sighed. "Draco-"  
  
"I know," He interrupted. "I'm going home now. If you need something, owl."  
  
"Thank you," She whispered. Draco couldn't find anything to say, so he apparated back to the manor without saying anything.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The next morning at sunrise found seven Weasleys along with the Potters in the living room of the Burrow. They had been told.  
  
Percy Weasley was dead.  
  
It was hard to swallow. Mrs. Weasley was crying on her husbands shoulder. Charlie was making tea and Bill was staring into the fire. Fred and George were just sitting there, staring into space. Harry was holding his very pregnant wife as she cried (she was over emotional enough without death of close friends), too shocked to move himself. They were all glad to be snapped out of their respective trances at the sound of the door opening. They snapped their heads to see Ginny walk in, with Ron behind her. Everyone else in the room exchanged looks. How were they going to tell them?  
  
"Ginny-" Charlie began, but she held up a hand to silence him.  
  
"We know," She said. "Both of us." She gestured to Ron. Harry's eyes widened at the sight of his friend. He looked thinner than he could ever remember, his pale skin under his freckles, and tired, grieving eyes.  
  
"Oh dears!" Mrs. Weasley cried, pulling her two youngest children into an embrace. Ginny hugged her mother back, but Ron didn't even seem to notice. He was staring around the room with a pained expression on his face. Harry immediately got worried.  
  
"Take a seat you two," Mr. Weasley said, gesturing to the empty sofa, his voice strangely hoarse. Ron and Ginny obeyed without question. After a while longer of just sitting, staring, and remembering, Bill spoke.  
  
"We'll have to start arranging the funeral and-"  
  
"Done," Ron interrupted. Harry started, it was the first time he had spoken.  
  
"Done?" Mr. Weasley repeated, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I made all the arrangements before I came, it's all paid for and taken care of," Ron said smoothly. "Ginny and I were aware of the situation since very early this morning. I brought along all the information." He handed his father a sheet of paper. Mr. Weasley stared at it in disbelief. As he surveyed it, his eyes got even bigger.  
  
"Ron..." He spluttered. "This...this was almost two thousand galleons..."  
  
"It's all covered, Dad," Ron insisted, blushing as his family stared.  
  
"Where in Heaven's name did you come up with two thousand galleons?" Mrs. Weasley asked faintly. Ron just went redder.  
  
"I've just been saving," He answered elusively. "I really must go home, I'm dead tired. I just came to give you the information. Goodbye," And with that, he apparated away.   
  
Rayven was waiting for him, with a cup of hot tea. He had stopped at home last night only long enough to explain what had happened before whisking off to take care of the funeral. He didn't want his family to pay for it. However, she wanted nothing more than for him to go to bed. She knew that was what he wanted as well.  
  
When he did open the door and stumble in, she was at his side. Almost immediately she was in his arms.  
  
"Are you okay?" She asked.  
  
"Yeah," He replied.  
  
"You know, you're a terrible liar," She remarked, making it sound light hearted. He smiled down at her.  
  
"I know," He took the tea she had waiting for him. "Thank you,"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Percy's funeral was very depressing. Rayven didn't go, even though it was her brother in law who died. It wasn't like Percy knew Ron was married. Ron went, of course, and came back looking horrible. Rayven tried to cheer him up, but it took a couple weeks to get him anywhere near back to normal. It didn't help that the whole time Rayven was keeping something from him.  
  
October came, and Ron knew that at Hogwarts people were preparing for the Halloween feast like crazy. He and Rayven were also preparing, making jack-o-lanterns and buying black and orange candles. They were still obvious newlyweds, if any of Ron's family had bothered to observe them. In each other's presence they were all smiles and giggles, as they were that particular afternoon of decorating.  
  
They were debating about where to hang the fake cobwebs when they heard a knock on the door. Rayven answered it, and found Ginny Weasley standing on the other side.  
  
"Why hello Ginny," Rayven said rather startled. Ron had followed his wife to the door.  
  
"Ron, come quick!" Ginny gasped as if she had been running.  
  
"What's wrong?" He cried, immediately assuming the worst as he grabbed his cloak.  
  
"It's Hermione," Ginny gasped. "She's gone into labor!"  
  
"Oh," Ron said, somewhat stupidly. He had nearly forgotten about the baby.  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Rayven demanded. "GO!" She practically shoved Ron and his cloak out the door, and Ron apparated with Ginny to the parking lot of St. Mungo's.  
  
Ginny never realized that Rayven was living with Ron.  
  
"This way!" She cried, leading him up a flight of stairs, which Ron took three at a time. However, when he got there he could only wait. He wasn't ABOUT to go into the delivery room, godchild or no. The rest of his family was out there as well, except for Ginny (the baby's future godmother) who was inside with Harry and Hermione. It was hours before a nurse finally came out.  
  
"Mrs. Potter's baby is in perfect health, and so is she," The nurse smiled. The entire room seemed to sigh with relief. "You can go inside now." Ron was the first person in. He found Hermione asleep in bed, looking exhausted but happy. Harry was beyond happy, he was delirious. In his arms was a tiny bundle. Ginny was looking at the baby over Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Harry!" Ron said as he entered. Harry looked up, his face glowing.  
  
"Isn't he beautiful?" Harry asked. Ron approached and looked down at his godson for the first time. He was indeed a very handsome baby. The tiny tufts of hair were dark brown, a combination of his parents' locks, and when the baby opened it's eyes, Ron discovered they were already turning from baby blue to the emerald green of his father's.  
  
"Yeah," Ron replied quietly. Harry let Ron hold his godson. It wasn't entirely paternal prejudice; the child really was beautiful. Ron wondered what it would be like to be a father. He closed his eyes and imagined for a brief moment that it was his child he was holding, and that it was Rayven who was sleeping peacefully next to him. He had no idea what it would be like, but in any case he envied Harry.  
  
His family snapped him out of him reverie, so Ron passed the baby around. Ginny, the child's godmother, was next, and she looked absolutely entranced by the child. Harry was beaming proudly.  
  
And that was how the first child of Harry and Hermione Potter came into the world, at 7:52 PM on October 21. He was named James Edward, after his grandfather.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry Potter was a very happy man. He was married to the most wonderful woman in the world (in his opinion), had the best son in the world (in his opinion) and the best job in the world (in his opinion). Yes, life was definitely good for Harry Potter.  
  
He was whistling as he walked down the corridors of the Auror HQ, an inconspicuous little building in the suburbs of London. He had just returned from a week off at home with Hermione and James. He had been handing out cigars to everyone he knew, and showing everyone pictures of baby James. He was annoying some of the more Percy-ish characters in the building, but most shared in his joy, as well as the cigars, of course. Needless to say, with all the interruptions for talking and smoking, he was, technically, late for work. His boss, Ben Miner, didn't say anything. He let Harry get away with anything, always wondering how he snagged the Boy Who Lived.  
  
Of course, he wouldn't be going anywhere dangerous anytime soon (Miner was a good man, and understood the family needs of his staff), so he had resigned himself to a full day of paperwork. However, he didn't mind. It gave him a chance to talk to everyone there, get the latest gossip, and show off pictures of James.  
  
There were four men and three women under Miner's command, including Harry. Ned Fickles was the newest member, a Hufflepuff fresh out of Hogwarts. He had replaced the sad loss of Terry Boot, who had been one of the Ministry's best men. The six remaining members and Fickles had sworn to track down Terry's murderer and see him to justice. But at the moment, Harry managed to push such morbid things out of his mind. The familiar faces of Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Gary Mammoth, Lavender Brown, and Katie Bell-Wood greeted him with smiles and congratulations. After the usual compliments, inquiries on health, and pictures of James had been passed around, talk turned to other things.  
  
"So, where are Jenny and Ned?" He asked casually. Jennifer Malian was the other member of their group, but she was obviously absent today.  
  
"They're off on the Ring-round assignment," Neville said, waving the question away. "Nothing serious, a typical raid. Miner's just trying to give poor Ned some experience I think.  
  
"Poor bloke is rather frightened of us," Gary remarked laughingly. "He was stuttering the first time he was told he'd be working with Harry Potter." Harry flushed red.  
  
"Don't we have anything productive to talk about?" He snapped.  
  
"I do," A soft voice said. Harry jumped, realizing it had been Lavender. She had been uncharacteristically silent, he suddenly noticed with a frown.  
  
"What is it?" Seamus, asked in concern. He had a good right to be, as he and Lavender were engaged to be married in December.  
  
"It's...well, it's nothing really," She flushed, seeming really embarrassed. "It's just these rumors I've been hearing lately."  
  
"Rumors?" Katie asked, raising an eyebrow. "Out with it, Lavender, rumors about what?"  
  
"Parvati," She suddenly burst out. "There's all these rumors that the Death Eaters are going to kill Parvati." Silence followed this remarkable statement.  
  
"I...I'm sure it's just a rumor," Harry finally managed to say.  
  
"I know," Lavender sighed. "I am being rather silly, aren't I? It's just this feeling..."  
  
"Everything will be fine, Lav, I'm sure of it," Seamus said, putting an arm around her shoulder. With that, the lot realized how late it was and how angry Miner would be if he came back to find them gossiping, and went to work.  
  
However, just before lunch, Harry felt the need to have a chat with his boss.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Potter," Miner greeted him warmly. "How is your wife? And the baby?" They exchanged the usual pleasantries before Harry actually got around to the subject he had been meaning to discuss.  
  
"Mr. Miner," He said, shuffling his feet somewhat nervously. "Rumors have been flying about an attack."  
  
"Oh?" His boss replied.  
  
"Yeah, uh..." Harry realized how stupid this sounded, but plunged ahead anyway. "They say Parvati Patil is next."  
  
"Really, and who exactly is 'they', Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Well, sir-" Miner cut him off with a sigh.  
  
"I know you have the best of intentions," His boss said. "But I cannot occupy my best men on the basis of a little office rumor." He smiled, as if explaining this to a very small child. "It may only be a distraction, just to put you elsewhere instead of where you will be needed."  
  
"Of course, sir," Harry replied, feeling foolish. "I understand."  
  
"Very well. Say hello to Hermione for me," And with that discussion ended.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Voldemort had taken to sending Ron and Rayven on mutual missions. Their last four jobs had been together, not including the Boots. So, they were not at all surprised when they were both summoned the night before Halloween. Their cloaked persons going to meet their Dark Master in the light of the full moon for evil purposes was a very fitting setting.   
  
"I shall not keep you long," Voldemort hissed, not even looking up when the two Death Eaters approached and bowed. "I need Parvati Patil dead by midnight."  
  
"Yes, my Lord," They replied, and went off to do his bidding. Afterward they went home, got out the champagne, toasted to Halloween, and went to bed.  
  
Lavender, Seamus, and Harry were the first on the seen. Benjamin Miner was wrong about little office rumors.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Mr. Miner?" Harry said, walking into his boss's office timidly.  
  
"Mr. Potter," Miner smiled. "How nice to see you. And how is Hermione?"  
  
"She's fine," He replied, not in the mood for pleasantries. The mood in the office had been tense since Parvati's death a week before. Lavender had called in sick everyday, and all seven of them were feeling terribly guilty. "I wanted to talk to you about Dean and Angelina Thomas."  
  
"What about them?" His boss inquired.  
  
"Rumors," Harry said shortly. "Supposedly they're next." Miner sighed.  
  
"Mr. Potter-"  
  
"I know!" Harry interrupted fiercely. "I know, they're only rumors. But look at what happened to Parvati-"  
  
"Unhappy coincidence," The man said smoothly. "Unfortunate, of course-"  
  
"Maybe," Harry said, rising to his full height and lifting his chin proudly. "But her death could've been prevented. And I don't want to have the death of the Thomas's as well as Parvati on my mind, do you?"  
  
Miner sighed. "Potter-"  
  
"It's just a precaution," Harry persisted. "What harm can it do?" He met Miner's eyes, and it was Miner who broke the gaze.  
  
"Alright, Mr. Potter. Take whoever wants to go, but no more than three. Tonight, I'm assuming?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Harry said, feeling very relieved. For his companions he chose Seamus, Lavender, and Neville.  
  
He had not forgotten his family. He sent an owl off to Ron, telling him that he wanted to perform the Fidelius Charm in three days' time.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
'This is really getting old,' Ron thought to himself as he and Rayven apparated to the entrance to Voldemort's underground lair. He was waiting for them outside, however, which could probably be credited as a good thing.  
  
"What is it that you wish, my Lord?" Ron asked, as he and Rayven bowed. He looked down at them.  
  
"This is very important, Weasley, so listen closely." The Dark Lord said slowly. "The Thomas's have become very powerful. Very powerful, and they are using it against me. However, they are not more powerful than me. Or than you," He added as an afterthought. If Ron had had the audacity to roll his eyes, he would have. "So, I think it would be best to eliminate them. It is entirely necessary that it is done quickly. I want it done tonight. It will be difficult, they are well protected, that is why I am sending Miss Michaels with you."  
  
"As you wish, my Lord," Ron replied, bowing again. He was really wondering why Voldemort was feeling so verbose tonight.  
  
"Go," He instructed pointing toward the forest. Dramatic, but totally inappropriate. The forest was on the east, while the Thomas home was south of their location. However, Ron decided it probably not be a good idea to point this out. Within seconds, he was on the street the Thomas's lived on, in full Death Eater regalia.  
  
Rayven waved her wand and started chanting, and Ron looked around nervously. He had an uneasy feeling that he was being watched and he didn't like it one bit.  
  
However, Rayven got them in the house without incident. It appeared the couple was comfortably sleeping in their bedroom upstairs. However, Ron could not shake off your forebodings.  
  
"Stay here," He instructed.  
  
"What?" She hissed. "Why?"  
  
"Just...as a look out, okay?" He asked, fidgeting. She rolled her eyes, but complied anyway. Feeling only slightly more at ease, he took the stairs to at a time to the master bedroom.  
  
His mind was now fixed on murder.  
  
The door creaked slightly as it gave way for Ron. Dean and Angelina were sleeping peacefully. Ron genuinely hoped they'd stay that way, it would make his job much easier. However, you don't always get what you wish for. He was standing over the bed and only just beginning to raise his wand, when Angelina, who had always been a light sleeper, sat up. No matter, she was gawking too much at the Death Eater in her room to fight back or rouse Dean in time. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a high pitch scream.  
  
Rayven.  
  
By this time, Angelina had woken Dean and grabbed her wand. However, her shouted curses did nothing. Ron was sprinting down the stairs, his heart pounding in his throat and rushing through his ears. Why did he leave her alone, why, why, WHY?!  
  
Even a full sprint, he was too late. He reached the doorway just in time to see Rayven surrounded by three Ministry officials before they all disapparated. Ron put his head in his arm, breathing heavily, and disapparated.  
  
It wasn't until he got home that he realized he had been crying.  
  
Back at the Auror HQ, Miner was apologizing to Harry. It was then that Harry was waiting for the Death Eater's identity to be revealed. He was in a murderous rage, and was dying for the opportunity to question the Death Eater. He, or she, he supposed, refused to answer anything, but Harry had expected that. It didn't matter, all apprehended Death Eaters were put under veritaserum.  
  
Imagine Harry's surprise when the Death Eater turned out to be none other than Rayven Michaels, who had been at his wedding, kissing Ron. Imagine Harry's further surprise when orders came from Cornelius Fudge himself forbidding the use of veritaserum on Rayven Michaels. She was sent to Azkaban at three that morning. Without trial, of course.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ron was miserable. There was really no other word for it. Rayven, his wonderful, kind, sweet Rayven, was in prison. Locked up in Azkaban, all alone.  
  
And it was all his fault.  
  
He took small comfort in the fact that dementors, who had deserted it for Voldemort long ago, no longer guarded the prison. However, there was little chance of her escape, as the magic surrounding the fortress was very powerful. Not to mention she would undoubtedly be a top security prisoner, under constant supervision and with powerful spells especially for her.  
  
The day passed slowly, painfully. The weather seemed to fit his mood splendidly, rainy and gloomy, without a hint of the sun all day. How could he go through everyday like this, without her? Eating breakfast without her, washing the dishes without her, folding laundry, putting away remaining Halloween decorations...Hell, just being in the flat without her! It was torture, torture of the highest degree for Ronald Weasley.  
  
Ron had completely forgotten about Voldemort. However, when he felt that familiar pain in his left arm, he got the distinct feeling that it wasn't to have tea and gossip about Lucius Malfoy's latest haircut.  
  
It was dark, and pouring when he apparated to the entrance to Voldemort's lair. However, Ron would've preferred an eternity in the freezing November rain than ten minutes down in that cave. However, not having much choice, he went inside. He quickly found his Master.  
  
He was right. They weren't going to have tea and discuss Lucius's hair-do.  
  
"You have failed me," The Dark Lord hissed as soon as Ron entered the room.  
  
"My Lord, I-"  
  
"And not only did I fail you, but you have handed one of my best servants to the aurors!" Voldemort exclaimed, and Ron flinched. This was not good. Definitely not good.  
  
"My Lord, if you would allow me to explain-"  
  
"There is no explanation for this!" The Dark Lord interrupted, and Ron had to admit there was not. "Why you couldn't follow my orders, or at least retain custody of Michaels! But no, you let both things go." He fingered his wand. "If I didn't know better, Weasley, I would think you rather...fancied Miss Michaels."  
  
"I...I..." Ron stuttered.  
  
"You do? How touching," Voldemort sneered. "She is too good for you, Weasley. Perhaps you need a reminder of where you stand..." Voldemort pointed his wand at Ron, who felt his eyes widen with fear.  
  
"Crucio,"  
  
The pain seemed even stronger than he remembered. He fell, screaming and crying and begging for mercy. Voldemort did not grant it. He just stared down at his failed servant, a mad glint in his snake-like eyes. Ron began counting the minutes. One...two...  
  
Maybe I should just give up, he thought to himself. Just stop fighting the pain and die. No! No, I cannot leave Rayven. He forced the image of her into his mind, and the pain seemed to dull.  
  
Fourteen...fifteen...sixteen...  
  
  
  
Ron had been released from the curse for several minutes before he got his bearings. Voldemort had disappeared, leaving him alone on the hard stone floor. Looking around, he knew he had to leave or he would die. There was no doubt in his mind of that. So, closing his eyes, he screwed up the last bit of magical energy in him, and apparated to the only place he could think of.  
  
It was pouring worse than ever. Thunder crashed above him. In a flash of lightening, he caught a glimpse of the house. He crawled through the mud, trying to reach the door. His mind was in pieces, and he wasn't even entirely sure where he had apparated to, but he didn't care either. Every breath, every movement, was agony. Finally, he made it through the yard. Somehow, he managed to lift his hand high enough to pound on the door. Nothing happened. He had just resigned himself to do it again, when the door was flung open.  
  
"Help," Ron moaned, his voice rasping.  
  
"Ron?!" The woman cried, helping him inside. He grunted. His vision was failing, but he put together his senses and finally realized who the woman was.  
  
Hermione Potter.  
  
This was probably not good, but Ron was not in the frame of mind to realize it. She pulled him in out of the rain, practically in hysterics.  
  
"Oh my God, what happened?" She cried. "Harry? HARRY!"  
  
"What?" Harry came bounding down the stairs. He saw immediately 'what' when he spotted his best friend, smeared with mud and blood, lying on his living room floor. "Jesus," He breathed, leaping down the stairs, and lifting Ron up onto the couch. This position made the bruises covering his face more obvious, as well as his torn robe, and the fact that his chest and arms covered with wounds and mud.  
  
"What the hell happened?" Harry demanded. "It looks like he's been beaten!"  
  
"No," Hermione said, her eyes widening. "It's magically induced. I think it's the Cruciatus."  
  
"WHAT?!" Harry cried. "But who..."  
  
"I don't know who, Harry, but he's going to die if we don't help him." She had been examining Ron's legs, which were also heavily bruised. "He was under for a long time."  
  
"No," Ron gasped. "I have to...I must..."  
  
"Don't talk," Hermione soothed, pushing back his hair before turning back to her husband. "He needs professional help. In the meantime, I think I know a potion that will help. Go to the kitchen and get a cauldron, ashwinder scales, essence of belladonna, kingsfoil, violet petals, and fairy wings," Harry nodded, and hurried into the kitchen as Hermione turned back to help Ron.  
  
The most serious wound was in his right arm. It was bleeding copiously. She quickly tore the left arm of his robe off, as it was the only fabric still intact, and wrapped it up. She leaned over to investigate his left arm.  
  
"No..." He protested meekly. "Don't..." But at that moment, he fainted. The pain and shock to his body was obviously too much. Hermione was glad, she didn't want him to feel the pain. She went back to his left arm. Nothing too bad. She turned it over and...  
  
Let out a blood-curdling scream.  
  
She quickly dropped Ron's hand, stumbling backward blindly. "HARRY!" She screamed, half in tears. She nearly ran into him as he came running through the doorway, his eyes raking the room.  
  
"What? WHAT?!" He cried, almost shaking his hysterical wife.  
  
"His arm...Harry, his arm..." She wept, burying her head into his shoulder. He removed her, firmly but gently, and strode over to Ron's limp body. Lying in plain view was his left arm. And on it, smiling up at Harry, was his worse nightmare.  
  
The Dark Mark. 


	7. Certain Death

A/N Okay, here's the second-to-last-chapter-not-including-the-epilogue. *whew* Okay, for the sake of all who complained about chapter 5 being a cliffie: it was supposed to be. However, it's not my biggest cliffie. You guys are going to hate me after this chapter. *grins devilishly* Hey, can't say I didn't warn you!  
  
Thanks to EVERYONE who's reviewed. Today, I'd also like to especially thank my friend Britz. She reminded me in a review that when I first started writing this I was Im-ing her and I made her go all the way upstairs to look up the proper spelling of 'Bode'. So, thank you Britz!!!!! ^_^  
  
Just for the record, I should be doing my English essay right now.  
  
Okay, enough of that. On with the fic!!!   
  
  
Chapter Six:  
Certain Death  
  
~Maybe there's a God above  
And all I ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you  
And it's not a cry you can hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah~  
  
*Rufus Wainwright's "Hallelujah  
  
  
Pain. Everywhere. Hurts.  
  
Ron stirred, slowly, and very painfully regaining consciousness. He cautiously opened one eyes, and quickly shut it again. Even though the room was bleary, the white walls were nearly blinding. He wondered where he was. He had never been in anywhere so white in his entire life.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
Hearing his name, but still too out of it to recognize a voice, he tried opening his eyes again. He was met with a pair of light brown eyes.  
  
"Rayven?" He mumbled, hardly coherent.   
  
"Ron, it's me." Ron gave himself a little shake, forced himself to sit up, and opened his eyes.  
  
The brown eyes were framed with flaming hair matching his own. The face was that of his mother. Standing just behind was the tall outline of his father.  
  
"Mum?" He managed to mumble. "Dad?" Thoughts and memories were starting to come to him now. But everything was through a haze of pain.  
  
"Yes, we're here," Mrs. Weasley said, taking her son's hand and trying to smile. Ron frowned, wondering why she was looking at him like that.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He asked.  
  
"Harry..." She looked back at her husband, who just looked down at Ron. "Harry told us things," She said uncomfortably, "Horrible things."  
  
Brief visions of the previous night were flashing through his mind. Harry must've seen, and now know...what was it again? Oh, right, he was a Death Eater. And here his parents were, supporting him no matter what, just as he knew they would be.  
  
"And you're still here?" He asked, smiling slightly. He was very happy his parents still loved him.  
  
"Well," Mr. Weasley mumbled, exchanging looks with his wife. "The things Harry said...they're not true, are they?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley flinched visibly as she watched her son's eyes go from soft blue to a sapphire fire. It had all come back with those words, everything. He sat up straight. He now recognized where he was; the hospital wing of the Auror HQ where they held prisoners who required medical attention before getting sent to Azkaban. His left wrist was handcuffed to the bedside, and he could feel the magical barriers around him. He turned to his parents with a snarl. Of course they weren't going to love him anyway. They had only come in the feeble hope of disbelief. Well, he would show them!  
  
"Oh, that's your problem, is it?" He asked coldly. "Just wanted to desperately confirm your disbelief and give you a story like Sirius Black (the traitor!) to show you that I'm innocent?" He smiled, the same cold, cynical smile of his master. "You're going to be very disappointed." He reached over with his functional right arm to pull up the sleeve of his robe. There, grinning at his parents, was his own personal Dark Mark. Mrs. Weasley gasped, then turned her head. Mr. Weasley made no sound, but stepped back at the sight, pulling his wife closer. Ron lowered the sleeve, and waited, staring them down with his fiery blue eyes, forcing them to speak. When sound did escape, it was from his mother's lips.  
  
"Ron...Ron how could you-"  
  
"Kill people?" He raised his eyebrows. "It's quite simple really. You just raise your wand and say the words. I'm quite good at it." His smile widened. "I'm my master's favorite."  
  
"But..."  
  
"But what?" Ron's smile transformed into a snarl, as his eyes traveled to his father. "Don't feed me bullshit about good and evil. There is no such thing. There is only power, which you seem to ignore completely. You think I couldn't do it? Oh, but I can," He smiled again, wolfishly. "I remember my first kill well. I remember when I killed Terry Boot's little boys, they were my youngest victims. They didn't even wake. They hardly do, it's really quite a pity. It's been a good long while since I witnessed a long, drawn out death. Not since Percy, I think..."   
  
This brought his mother's face out from his father's arms and around to him, her eyes wide. Ron plunged through, the look of horrified disbelief somehow morbidly forcing him to go on. "Oh yes, he screamed for many hours before death. He welcomed it, I assure you. But luckily, I got to witness it. I will always remember the look on his face when he realized I was there in the service of my master, not to come to his rescue. Stupid boy," Ron snorted. "He doesn't understand any better than you do."  
  
"How can you talk like that?" Mrs. Weasley asked, fighting tears.  
  
"Death is my profession," Ron shrugged. "I enjoy it." This pushed her over the edge, and the tears she had pushed back started to spill. She buried herself into her husband, who held onto her as he stared at his smirking son in disbelief. He started to usher her away.  
  
"Go on home then," Ron said, "Write me out of the will and deny me the family name. It's about damned time I got rid of this damn charade." And with that, his parents left. Ron stared out the door after them, not believing what had just happened, and what was happening.  
  
Molly and Arthur Weasley, in the meantime, were scurrying down the hall as fast as they could go, trying to push the inevitable images from their minds. Molly kept seeing Percy screaming at Ron's feet over and over, while her youngest son just watched and laughed. They were so caught up in these terrible thoughts that they nearly ran into someone.  
  
"Mom?" That someone asked. "Dad?"  
  
"Ginny," Molly managed a very strained smile, but nothing could alter her features. Arthur didn't even try.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked, slightly confused.  
  
"We were just...talking...to Ron," Arthur managed to choke out. Ginny raised an eyebrow.  
  
"He's here?"  
  
"In...in the Hospital Wing..." Mrs. Weasley couldn't hold it in any longer. "He's a Death Eater, Ginny, a Death Eater! Please, don't talk to him, he's turned into a monster, he-"  
  
"Molly, it's okay," Arthur pulled his wife into an embrace, as Ginny stared.  
  
It was all coming together. She had been notified to come to Auror HQ to escort a Death Eater to Azkaban, just like Bill had taken Rayven two nights ago. Ron had been caught, and he had obviously talked to his parents, no less!  
  
"Oh dear..." Was all that she managed to get out. Her parents continued their journey as Ginny walked impatiently down the hall, going faster and faster. Soon she was jogging, and in another moment she was in an all out sprint. The door to the Hospital Wing flung open before her, and she screeched to a stop.  
  
He was the only person in the room. He was sitting on the bed, his head bowed, his arm chained to the side. She felt a pang in her heart. She took a step forward, then he spoke.  
  
"They hate me, Ginny."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous-"  
  
"I'm not," He raised his head, strands of flaming hair blocking the brilliant blue. "They hate me."  
  
"Ron..." She bit her lip and approached. Sitting down, she said, "They don't hate you." He laughed.  
  
"Yes they do, Ginny. I made Mum cry. I told her about Percy."  
  
"You did WHAT?" She cried.  
  
"I had to Ginny," He said bitterly. "They can't know. It would endanger the mission."  
  
"To Hell with the mission!" Ginny yelled. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Ron, after the war we'll explain, and then we'll be a family again, I just know it. And-"  
  
"No, Ginny, you don't understand!" Ron cried, turning to her. His eyes nearly made her cringe. "They can never forgive me now, NEVER! You didn't see the looks on their faces! Dad-" His voice cracked. Without out any warning, he started to sob bitterly. Ginny pulled him into an embrace, letting him cry on her shoulder. All the time she could hear him mumbling.  
  
"They hate me, they hate me..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ginny quietly shut the door to the office and fell into a chair, her head buried in her hands. Oh Jesus...this was the worst possible scenario. Two undercover agents imprisoned in twenty-four hours...by their own side, no less!  
  
However, to be completely honest, Ginny's mind was not on how this would affect the war. Her poor parents...and even more, poor Ron! Ginny hadn't seen her favorite brother cry since he was eight years old after he had fallen off Fred's broomstick and broken his leg. Ron had always been strong, that was one of the reasons she admire him so much.  
  
She had just witnessed her rock crumble.  
  
Not that she could blame him. She would never forget the looks on her parents' faces, and she had only seen the aftermath! She could only imagine what it must have been like for Ron...  
  
Damn them! When Ginny had seen her mother's tearstained face, she had been tempted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood. Did they really lack that much faith in their youngest son? Didn't they know that Ron could never become a Death Eater? Not really?   
  
Obviously not.  
  
Her thoughts were shattered by the sound of the door opening. She looked over her fingers to see who was interrupting her reverie, and nearly jumped in surprise.  
  
Draco Malfoy.  
  
His liquid eyes surveyed the room, inspecting all its contents carefully. They fell on Ginny, and stayed there. After a few moments, he spoke.  
  
"He's gone." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"Yes," Ginny replied. Draco sighed, and lowered himself into the chair next to hers.  
  
"I don't think Ron really minds," He mused aloud. "The dementors aren't there anymore, you know. In any case, I know he's happy not to hide anything anymore." Ginny looked over at him, her brown eyes wide. Draco didn't seem to notice, his gaze not leaving his well-polished shoes.  
  
She was shocked because the same thoughts had been running through her mind. She knew how much Ron hated his two-faced life, although he never said anything. But only someone who knew him well could've really observed his thoughts...  
  
"You really are friends with him, aren't you?" Ginny asked suddenly. She had always thought they merely tolerated each other, for the sole reason that they were colleagues. However, it suddenly occurred to her that this might not be the case.  
  
"I suppose I am." Draco turned his head, a half smile on his lips, meeting her wide eyes. "You wouldn't have guessed, would you?"  
  
"No," She admitted quietly. "You're both too damned stubborn to admit anything." Draco laughed hollowly.  
  
"You always were blunt, Virginia," He whispered. Ginny felt shivers run down her back when he said her name like that. She shoved the memories from her mind, and forced her gaze to the ground. She felt, rather than saw, him stand up.  
  
"Leaving?" She asked dully, raising her head.  
  
"Why stay?" He asked. She bit her lip when no answer came. He smirked, but hesitated before turning to go. She stood up suddenly. This turned out to be a bad idea, because she somehow managed to trip and fall directly into Draco's arms.  
  
"Graceful," He remarked sarcastically.  
  
"Damn it Draco!" She cried suddenly, wriggling out of his grasp and standing firmly. "I don't want any of your sarcasm right now! I just had to send my brother to prison, thank you very much, when I KNOW he's innocent and there's not a damn thing I can do about it! Why the hell are you here anyway? It's not like you have a clue what I'm going through here, as you've never loved anyone in your whole damned life-"  
  
"You know that's not true," Draco interrupted quietly. Her fiery stare met his icy, challenging one. She opened her mouth to make a reply, but nothing came out. Draco took the opportunity to do the only thing he could think of doing to keep her from beginning another rant.  
  
He kissed her.  
  
She didn't struggle. On the contrary, she melted into his arms, welcoming the change. He welcomed it too, naturally, but something wasn't right. She was vulnerable right now, and would probably let him do whatever the hell he wanted to with her. Another Draco might have turned this to his full advantage, but that was not what he wanted now. Reluctantly, yet firmly, he pushed her away.  
  
"Goodbye, Miss Weasley," He said, and turned through the door. By the time Ginny recovered from the shock, he had disapparated.  
  
What the Hell have you done now, Malfoy? Draco scolded himself as he fell into the armchair next to the fire. The parlor of Malfoy Manor wasn't exactly a warm and fuzzy kind of place, but it was one of the few places Draco could really think. Sometimes he thought of Voldemort, or the Ministry, or his upcoming assignments.  
  
Today he thought about Ginny.  
  
His mind was traveling backward to a time he had locked away, but was now coming back into sharp focus. He had dated Ginny for seven months during his last year at Hogwarts, in secret. The best seven months of his life.  
  
He had been in love with Ginny then. He had known it, although he never said it. He always assumed she knew, and returned the sentiments. Whether or not she had he still didn't know. They had, like any couple, fought on occasion. However, a certain huge row in May had ended the relationship forever. Draco had never been exactly sure on who had dumped whom, but they both knew it was over.  
  
Draco, after graduation, had tried to forget Ginny. He snorted. Yeah, right, forget Ginny Weasley? Impossible. However, he had tried and was doing a good job. He had been very fond of Angel, although he didn't love her as he had loved Ginny. He hoped Angel hadn't been in love with him, for there was nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn't love you.  
  
He had realized that as soon as Ginny stepped back into his life...or rather, into Fudge's office that day a few months ago. One look at her silken fire hair and curious brown eyes had been enough to remind him. He had been avoiding her ever since, but today...  
  
What had come over him? Kissing her...that was a mistake. He knew it. Ginny didn't return his love, which made sense. He didn't deserve her, nor did he know anyone who did. However, he couldn't help wondering if she had enjoyed that as much as he had.  
  
He shook his head. Yeah, right. Duh, Draco, you inconsiderate asshole, she was worried about her brother! Draco smiled at himself...he had picked up that particular alias from Ginny during a particularly stinging fight. It was true, though, he had gone and used her grief for his own ends.  
  
And if Ron found out, he would kill him.  
  
No one could accuse Draco of being glad about Ron's imprisonment. If not for the fact they had (grudgingly, I assure you) become friends, but also for the simple fact that now all the work was split between himself and Severus.  
  
But if there was ever a time Draco was remotely glad about it, it was right then.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
They tried to pretend it was a normal morning. She bustled about the kitchen, while he quietly sipped his coffee. However, the silence was obvious and the air was saturated with a tenseness so severe he wanted to scream. The only person unaffected was the infant, gurgling happily in his high chair.  
  
Hermione sat down, putting a plate in front of herself and her husband. Harry looked up and tried to say thank you, or smile...or SOMETHING, but the only thing that came of it was a sort of grimace. She didn't notice as she started dumping pepper on her French toast.  
  
"Hermione,"  
  
"Huh?" She looked up. Catching his pointed stare, she looked down and saw the heap of black grains on her toast. "Oh," She blushed, then sighed. "I wasn't really hungry anyway."  
  
"Me neither," He muttered, staring down at his breakfast unenthusiastically. James laughed, as if he were trying to cheer his parents up. The sound echoed throughout the kitchen for a moment. Suddenly Hermione burst into tears.  
  
Harry leapt up. James, sensing his laugh had not had the desired effect, now followed his mother's example and began to cry. Hermione shook her head, trying to stop the inevitable tears. She leaned over and picked up her baby son, cradling him in her arms.  
  
"Shh, baby, don't cry," She soothed, rubbing his back. Harry came up behind them, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Harry," She said quietly, looking up at him.  
  
"Sorry?" He asked incredulously. "For what?"  
  
"For...for..."  
  
"Stop it, Hermione," He commanded. "None of this is your fault."  
  
"I know but...Harry, how could he do this to us?" She cried, spinning around and holding the child even closer to her. "Jesus, we were about to entrust him with our lives, Harry...we were going to do the Fidelius charm. TODAY!" She choked on more tears. "He betrayed us."  
  
"I know," Harry sighed. "But there's nothing we can do about it-"  
  
"Damn it Harry! How can you take this lightly?!"  
  
"I AM NOT TAKING THIS LIGHTLY!" He roared. Taking a deep breath, he moderated his voice. "I am not taking this lightly," He repeated. "Do you think I'm happy about this or something? Jesus Christ, if it weren't for you and James I'd probably have drowned myself be now or-"  
  
"Stop talking like that," She said quietly. He sighed.  
  
"I know, I know," He rubbed her back, and looked into her eyes. "We have to pull through this, Hermione."  
  
"Without Ron," She whispered. Clutching her son, she shed a few more tears.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Prison was really overrated, Ron thought to himself. This wasn't really bad, just boring. Not that he really minded boring, after two years of two lives, he was actually rather relieved to be leading none at all. As a matter of fact, he thought to himself, if he could exchange his damned guilt for his wife it would be Heaven.  
  
Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. He was quite certain Heaven would have better food.  
  
If there was a Heaven. In these couple weeks, while having nothing better to do in lonely stone cell, his thoughts had turned to the afterlife, or lack thereof. He had no idea what to think of Heaven and Hell, of God and Satan. However, he knew that if they DID exist he knew he was destined for Hell.  
  
He didn't deserve better, and he knew it. How could a murderer knock on Heaven's Gate and demand of Saint Peter to be let it? No thank you. He would rather not make a fool of himself in front of the Lord.  
  
Hell. He wondered what it was like. In Ron's opinion he had already been through Hell. Rayven was the only person that pulled him out of it. And now, she wasn't here.  
  
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She WAS here, just not in his cell, which was about as good as being in separate hemispheres. The dementors may be gone, but it was still as impossible to escape from as ever.  
  
He had underestimated the Ministry. He didn't even know half the spells guarding his cell. After about two hours, he had completely given up on any kind of escape. He was now completely resigned to remain in prison until the war was over and his position as undercover spy revealed.  
  
He was quite lonely, his mind fixed on his wife. She was all alone in one of these cold stone cells. That disturbed him more than his own miserable state. He couldn't stand to think of Rayven living like this.  
  
Living. This was hardly living. Even though he knew he had only been in Azkaban for fifteen days, his life before that seemed to be decades behind him. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this.  
  
But, as he had said before, the only thing that really bothered him about this arrangement was Rayven. Absentmindedly, he fingered the chain around his neck that held his wedding ring. It was the only thing they hadn't taken away from him when they threw him in here. He wanted to see her, if only for a brief moment. He wanted to make sure she was okay...  
  
An explosion cut his musings short. Ron leapt up and ran to the door. However, since the door was solid stone, this didn't really do much. It hindered all his senses...but even solid stone couldn't keep out all the noise. Sirens were going off and people were running, spells from wands were flying and hitting the stone. It didn't take Ron long to put all the pieces together.  
  
An escape.  
  
There hadn't been an escape since Sirius Black, and there had been no other before him. He mused briefly on whether or not this escapee would prove as difficult to recapture. And then, of course...who the devil was it? Who had managed to penetrate all the curses and spells and get away before the warden and all the guards showed up?  
  
He hoped, quite sincerely, that they caught him again. Ron didn't like prison, but he was innocent...more or less. The rest of these men weren't. They needed to be locked away, where they could do nothing or, as was the case these days, return to their master. He waited impatiently for news, pondering the possibility. Then, hours later, he finally discovered who it had been.  
  
Rayven.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"How is she?" Bill and Ginny demanded in unison the moment Draco walked in the door that night. He rolled his eyes.  
  
"She's fine. It went off without a hitch, of course," He said smoothly. He had been working with both the Ministry and the Death Eaters to plan Rayven's escape, so that her pardon wouldn't be revealed and lead to disaster.  
  
"Oh good," Ginny sighed in relief. "I was worried you two would get caught."  
  
"Caught, me?" Draco asked indignantly. "Never." Ginny ignored him; she didn't have time for his pride.  
  
"Where is she?" Bill asked. "The manor?"  
  
"Yes, she's safe there for now," Draco replied. "Eventually we'll have to relocate her."  
  
"You sound as if you were talking about a piece of furniture," Ginny said scornfully. Draco rolled his eyes again.  
  
"She said to tell you hello, and wants news on Ron," He continued. "Anybody know anything?"  
  
"Not much," Bill admitted.  
  
"Hermione will be inspecting soon," Ginny said thoughtfully. "I bet a few tears and some sad questions could get results."  
  
"Inspecting?" Draco asked.  
  
"Yeah, that's one of her jobs, you know," Ginny replied. "Inspecting Azkaban and making sure the spells are working, blah, blah, blah."  
  
"Lucky for her the dementors aren't there anymore," Draco said.  
  
"Yeah, lucky all of us," She replied. There was a silence.  
  
"So, are you two up to a game of poker?" Draco asked enthusiastically. He loved poker, and won almost every game he ever played.  
  
"Actually, I have to go," Bill said, getting to his feet.  
  
"Go?" Draco demanded. "Where?"  
  
"Appointment with some chap who says he's got information for me. You know the type, the anonymous note and all." Bill yawned, and looked at his watch, which informed him that it was five 'till one in the morning. "I'll be back in about an hour," He assured them, and left the room.  
  
Draco and Ginny looked at each other. They were standing about five feet apart, but the silence was much longer. It was what Draco would undoubtedly call an awkward situation. He didn't like those, so after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he decided to break it. "Well?"  
  
She strode across the room, raised her hand, and slapped him with all the force she could muster.  
  
"That's for kissing me!" She yelled. "And this is for not having the damn decency to stay and tell me why!" She continued, raising her hand again. However, Draco caught it before it could land another blow. His left cheek was stinging painfully.  
  
"Is this really necessary?" He drawled.   
  
"Yes it is!" She screeched. "You can't just kiss me like that without warning me, or asking my permission, or..."  
  
"It was a kind of spur of the moment thing, you know?" Draco replied, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"ARGH!" She cried, after several moments of trying to formulate something more intelligible. She twisted out of his grasp so that she was no longer facing him, much to his disappointment. She was beautiful in a temper, with her brown eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and tendrils of fiery hair tumbling down in front of her...  
  
Pull it together, Malfoy, he told himself, running his fingers through his hair.  
  
"Look, Gin, I'm sorry," He said. He had learned through painful experience that apologies were necessary when dealing with women, especially this woman.  
  
"Sorry for what?" She snapped, spinning around so that she was facing him again. "For kissing me?"  
  
"What the hell do you want me to be sorry for?" He yelled, his temper rising. It was a scene that had been seen many times by the walls of a deserted classroom; Ginny, with her hands on her hips, glaring at Draco, while he stood with his fists clenched and his eyes dangerously narrowed.  
  
"I want you to be sorry for...for..." She stuttered to a stop, at a complete loss for words. Somehow, that silence communicated itself to Draco. He took a step forward, and put his hands on his shoulders.  
  
"Ginny?" He said quietly. "May I kiss you?"  
  
"Okay," She whispered, and didn't object at all when he did so.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Petunia Dursley woke up before her husband to get the milk bottles. When she came back in, she turned on the television in the kitchen to give her something to do while she made breakfast. The news was on, and she found them in the middle of a report on an escaped convict.  
  
"The public is warned the Michaels is armed and very dangerous. If anyone has seen a suspicious woman with hazel eyes and auburn hair, call the number on your screen immediately."  
  
They then showed a picture of the woman, and Petunia dropped her frying pan. Rayven Michaels...no, Rayven Weasley! Her first instinct was to grab the telephone. However, when she reached it, she hesitated.   
  
Rayven. She had said no one could know about their marriage, it was a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing. She had looked frightened of those around her.  
  
Not to mention she was a witch.  
  
Yes, Petunia knew. She had immediately recognized Ron as one of the family that had practically adopted her nephew. She hadn't said anything to Vernon, though. Ever since the dreams of Lily had started plaguing her, Petunia's opinion on magic had begun to change.  
  
Whatever Rayven was, she was not a murderer. Petunia could remember seeing that report on Sirius Black all those years ago, then finding out he was Harry's godfather and innocent as well. She believed then, quite firmly, that Rayven was innocent.  
  
She turned off the television and returned to the bacon.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Well, at least Malfoy Manor isn't as boring as prison, Rayven mused to herself. She had more freedom, but not much more. However, the bed was much more comfortable, the food was better, and the ceiling was more interesting.  
  
It had been six days since her escape from prison, and people on both sides were searching for her. She felt guilty for putting Draco in this situation, but he refused to let her leave until it was absolutely necessary. So she had resigned herself to the elaborate rooms of the Manor much the same as she had to the walls of her prison cell.  
  
Ron. All her thoughts were with him. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him, shivering and hungry, on a cot in a stone room against her lids. She knew quite well that he was okay...she always knew when he wasn't. Her first night of prison she couldn't sleep because of terrible visions of her Ron screaming in pain. She found out later, from Draco, that he had undergone an extensive amount of time under Cruciatus that night.  
  
On her behalf.  
  
Nothing Draco could say would wash away the guilt that plagued her. He had been punished because she had been caught. She lay awake, tossing and turning, thinking of him. Thinking of his pain.  
  
She was in this frame of mind when she heard two short knocks and three long ones. Then her doorknob turned. She was glad Draco had invented that way of warning her who it was, otherwise she probably would've been out the window by now.  
  
"Good afternoon, Rayven," He said.  
  
"Hello," She replied.  
  
"Hey!" The new, perky voice caused Rayven to look up in alarm. The woman it belonged to was none other than her sister-in-law.  
  
"Ginny?" She asked incredulously.  
  
"Rayven?" Ginny replied, mocking her tone of voice. Rayven rolled her eyes.  
  
"Got anymore surprise visitors for me?" She asked Draco.  
  
"No, but I do have this." He offered an envelope. Curious, she took it from him and opened it. A smile spread across her face. It was a letter from Severus. She hadn't seen him since school had started, and she missed him.   
  
"Thanks," She said to Draco.  
  
"Don't thank me," Draco replied. "Thank Bill. He's the one who got the letter."  
  
"Whatever," She rolled her eyes. "Am I leaving yet, Draco?"  
  
"No one even suspects you right now," Draco replied. "There's no need to put you at unnecessary risk."  
  
"There's no need to put YOU at unnecessary risk," She argued back. "If they suspect I'm here, you'll be blamed!" He only shrugged. "Damn it, Draco!"  
  
"Maybe she's right, Draco," Ginny interrupted before he could speak. Rayven looked at her curiously. She hadn't expected the Unspeakable to take her side on this matter.  
  
"And what logic are you reasoning by?" He asked, folding his arms and staring her down.  
  
"It's already mid-November," Ginny pointed out reasonably. "We've been lucky so far. But soon, very soon, it will start snowing. It's going to be a lot easier for her if she gets out of here before the bad weather hits."  
  
Rayven looked at Ginny with a new respect. She hadn't even considered the weather as a good argument for her case! Draco obviously hadn't either. After a few moments of trying to come up with a logical reply, he muttered something about getting dinner and left the room.   
  
"How did you do that?" Rayven blurted once Draco had gone.  
  
"Huh?" Ginny asked, surprised.  
  
"How did you make him listen to you?"  
  
"Well, it is the most logical way to look at it," Ginny pointed out. "Although personally, I agree with you. He's endangering himself far more than you at this point."  
  
"Ginny Weasley, I take my hat off to you!" Rayven said. "That is, I would if I had a hat." The two girls laughed, and Rayven suddenly found the potential for a good friend in her sister-in-law. Rayven had a real girl friend since Angel died. She kept up her correspondence with Petunia, of course, (although it had been seriously damaged by her time spent in prison) but that was more of a motherly thing.  
  
And so what did they do? Gossip, of course! They talked about girls they both knew, and clothing and hair and things normal young women talked about. Draco came back in the room to find them both in a frightening fit of giggles.  
  
"Um...am I interrupting something?" He asked.  
  
"No, no, not at all Draco," Rayven gasped between giggles. "Come on in, we're starving."  
  
"I get the feeling I'm entering the danger zone," Draco said, rolling his eyes. He set down a tray of food. Rayven started helping herself, and then turned to look up at the other two. She started.   
  
Maybe it was a certain look or smile. Maybe it was the way they were gesturing. Maybe it was their eyes, but SOMETHING finally made it so obvious Rayven felt like she had been hit over the head. She sucked in a breath.  
  
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine," Rayven replied. Ginny smiled, then turned back to Draco. Yep, if she had had any doubts, that smile at him cleared them away. She knew the truth, even if they wouldn't admit it.  
  
  
Draco and Ginny were in love.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Thirty-two. It was now thirty-two days Ron had been in Azkaban, and he didn't look any better for it. His mind was constantly with Rayven. He had wanted her to get out of prison, but now he was worried sick wondering WHERE she was, and what had happened to her, and if she was going to get caught, and if she had gone back to Voldemort, and...  
  
His mind reeled with questions. He stared at his boring stone ceiling. It didn't offer any answers. Sighing, he tried to force Rayven out of his mind.  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
His eyes traveled around the stone room, picking up every crack and crevice. He desperately wished he had a window, so he could at least know what time of day it was...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Actually, it was 8:00 in the morning on December the tenth. The Potter family was up, getting ready for their day. Hermione was busy at the stove, while Harry read his paper and James played with a few tiny toys in his high chair. The sound of something falling and a muttered swear word caused Harry to look over the top of his paper. His wife picked up the fallen cup and threw it into the sink. He raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Are you alright?" He asked, causing her to jump and nearly drop the clean cup she had gotten out of the cupboard.  
  
"I'm fine," She replied, in a voice that suggested the opposite. After filling the cup, she set down her drink and their plates. He carefully watched every move.  
  
"You don't look fine," He observed, and she jumped again.  
  
"I'm just a little nervous, okay?" She snapped.  
  
"Hermione..." He began. She sighed, and he decided to change tactics. "You'll be fine, sweetheart. The dementors aren't there anymore, you only have to make sure the spells are going to hold if they try another escape."  
  
"Easy for you to say," She muttered bitterly. Seeing the look of hurt on his face, she cringed. "Harry, I didn't mean that I just...damn it! Inspecting Azkaban is not my idea of fun!"  
  
"I understand," He replied, his emerald eyes looking into hers. She smiled weakly.  
  
"Thank you," She whispered. They continued with breakfast, until Hermione looked at her watch and sighed. "I really have to get going."  
  
"Go on ahead," Her husband said. "I'll take James over to your parents's house before I go to work."  
  
"Thanks honey," She smiled, kissed him, and disapparated. After a few moments, Harry had James's things ready, and followed her example.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Actually, Azkaban wasn't nearly as bad as Hermione had expected it to be. She walked down the stone corridors with the warden, investigating the state of the doors and spells. She was then led inside a high tech surveillance room. The Ministry had taken to using Muggle technology, so that they had cameras (magicked, of course, to work much better than any Muggle camera in existence), and there was also a keypad outside the doors of top security prisoners, with a five number code.   
  
You could count the number of people that knew all the codes and counter spells in the building on one hand. Hermione Potter was one of them.  
  
The warden, one by one, enlarged the pictures of the top security prisoners so that they filled the whole screen. She saw several Death Eaters and various murders she recognized. The picture from the camera would show Hermione the actual convict, and in the corners, bright neon grids the shape of the cell against a black patch would show her the spells on that particular cell, and how strong they were. She studies these grids, making several adjustments. They then came to the last, and latest, prisoner.  
  
Ronald Weasley.  
  
Hermione stiffened visibly at the sight of him. His hands were folded behind his bed, and he was laying on his cot, staring up at the ceiling with an unblinking stare. The grids in the corners of the screen were glowing strong, ensuring that his escape was an impossibility. However, she couldn't bring herself to tear away from that cold, unwavering stare.   
  
"Mrs. Potter...Mrs. Potter?" Hermione shook herself when she heard the warden calling to her. She smiled weakly at him, then turned her attention to the grids, forcing herself to ignore the man on the screen. She was just about to tell the warden that she was finished, when something happened she had never seen before.  
  
The neon grids disintegrated.   
  
Ron's countenance did not change. She looked at it for less than a second before she and the warden were sprinting toward the corridor that held Ron's cell. When the got there, they skidded to a halt. Hermione could not BELIEVE what she was seeing.  
  
A familiar, silver-haired man was punching numbers into the keypad. When it failed to open he swore, kicked the stone door, and swore again. Hermione and the warden just stared.  
  
"Malfoy?" She finally managed to sputter. He spun around. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were wild.  
  
"Potter!" He replied, he opened his mouth to say more, but Hermione cut him off.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She demanded. He waved it off, throwing an envelope at her.  
  
"What's Ron's birthday?" He asked as Hermione scrambled to open the envelope. She replied automatically.  
  
"March 17,"  
  
"Ah!" He turned back to the keypad. "I kept putting in April." As he frantically worked on the keypad, Hermione pulled out the paper within the envelope with trembling fingers.  
  
A full pardon signed by the Minister of Magic himself.  
  
At that moment, the doors yielded, and Hermione looked up at Malfoy.  
  
"Ron!" He shouted. "Get your ass out here!" Hermione watched, hardly able to believe her own eyes, as Ron slowly came out, his eyebrows raised.  
  
"What is going on, Draco?" He asked quietly, his eyes resting on Hermione.  
  
"I brought your pardon. Ron-"  
  
"You WHAT?!" Ron cried, whipping around to Malfoy, who looked very annoyed at being interrupted. "I was saving that for an emergency!"  
  
"This is a goddamned emergency!" Malfoy screamed.  
  
"If you tell me something stupid like-"  
  
"Harry Potter's been captured."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Petunia Dursley was dusting her mantelpiece. She was home alone, since her husband was at work. After she finished her chores, she decided she deserved a break, and layed down on the sofa to watch some television. She turned on the news, but found herself drifting off to sleep. She had hardly closed her eyes when she fell into a dream.  
  
  
She was on a beach, looking out across the ocean. Suddenly, rising from the grayish blue waves, came Lily. She wasn't young in this dream, she was just as Petunia had last seen her: age twenty in a long blue dress, her wild red hair flying behind her in the breeze. Petunia watched as Lily walked on the water, coming toward the shore but never getting any closer. Petunia wanted to help her, but she couldn't touch the water for some reason.  
  
"Petunia!" Lily cried. Petunia's head snapped up. "Petunia, don't let him fall! Save him, please!" Petunia's eyes went upward, where she saw a huge cliff. The wind picked up, and Petunia realized what she was seeing. Standing at the top of the cliff was her nephew as he was now. Lily screamed as he fell off the cliff, falling to the rocks below. Petunia tried to run to him, but it was too late. Harry was falling...falling...falling...  
  
  
The annoying jingle of a restaurant commercial woke her up. She sighed, consoling herself that it was only a dream. However, just as she was beginning to believe this, her eyes traveled to the television screen. It showed a picture of her nephew. And then she heard the anchorman's voice.  
  
"If anyone has seen or heard from Harry Potter, please contact us immediately using the number on the bottom of your screen. He was believed to have been kidnapped by a dangerous murderer...  
  
Petunia fainted.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Harry Potter's been captured."  
  
Those four words brought silence, and Hermione felt her knees weaken underneath her. What had he just said? No...NO! Harry couldn't be missing, she had just seen him three hours ago!  
  
"WHAT?!" Ron finally exploded, his blue eyes wide.  
  
"I told you it was an emergency," Draco pointed out. Ron brushed it aside.  
  
"We need to get to the Ministry. We need to get Fudge. We need...hold on a second, are you absolutely sure?"  
  
"Yes," Draco replied, nodding. "I was helping Rayven find a hiding place, and-"  
  
"Rayven's involved!" Ron cried, his blue eyes widening even more. "Where is she, the Ministry building?"  
  
"Actually..." Draco looked rather uncomfortable. "She insisted on going in to distract him..."  
  
"WHAT?!" Ron yelled again. "You left her alone with Voldemort and Harry Potter!"  
  
"It was her damn idea!" Draco yelled back. Ron closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.  
  
"Take me to them."  
  
"What? Are you mad?" Draco asked. "I need you to help me with-"  
  
"Damn it, Draco!" Ron interrupted. "You are taking me to her RIGHT NOW!" Silver eyes met sapphire, and Draco knew he meant it.  
  
"I'm going with you!" Hermione suddenly interrupted, coming forward.  
  
"What?" Both men said, turning to stare at her.  
  
"I don't have a clue what's going on," She replied. "But I understand my husband's been captured. I'm going with you."  
  
"No, you're not," Draco said flatly.  
  
"To hell I'm not!" She screamed.  
  
"Hermione," Ron interrupted, turning his stare on her. "If you want to help, go to the Ministry. No, we need you there. You can come with the reinforcements."  
  
"But-"  
  
Her objections never got any farther than that. Draco had grabbed Ron's shoulder and disapparated. The first thing Ron noticed was the gray sky, threatening either rain or snow. He then realized he was in front of a familiar stone cave.  
  
Voldemort's lair.  
  
Ron started forward, but Draco stopped him. "Are you mad?" He asked again. He reached into his robes, and extracted Ron's wand. "At least take this."  
  
"Thank you," Ron replied.  
  
"Hold on!" Draco cried again, going through his robes. Ron turned, impatient. His best friend and his wife were down there, with only Voldemort's tender mercies to help them.  
  
"And this," Draco finally managed to pull out what he had been looking for. It was a dagger, with a black hilt. He handed it carefully to Ron, who studied it. On the hilt were a few silver runes he didn't recognize.  
  
"Dumbledore told me to get it to Harry," Draco explained.  
  
"You went to Hogwarts too?" Ron asked incredulously.  
  
"Rayven and I decided it would be the best place to go first. It was Dumbledore that suggested I get you out of prison for this." Ron nodded, then turned and started off to the mouth of the cave.  
  
"Oh, and Ron," Draco called. Ron, who was now at the mouth of the cave, turned.  
  
"Yeah, Draco?"  
  
"Good luck."  
  
"You too." And with that, Draco turned and disapparated, and Ron continued his descent.  
  
His heart was pounding in his chest, and, rather ironically, so did his wedding ring. What the hell was going on? Harry had been captured, Rayven was trying to rescue him...sounded to Ron like Voldemort was going to have a field day. Ron wondered briefly what he would find when he turned the last corner and came into the lair itself.  
  
He suddenly had a vision of Rayven, in a frilly pink dress, sitting at table with a white tablecloth with several dressed up dolls and teddy bears, along with Harry and Voldemort, both in top hats, tails, and spectacles. Rayven told Voldemort to pour the tea, and the Dark Lord politely inquired of the teddy bear on his right whether or not he wanted sugar as Harry nibbled on a biscuit.  
  
Or not.  
  
He pushed the ridiculous scene from his mind, trying to think of nothing but the job at hand. The dagger was thrust into his belt, and his wand was out. When he finally reached the room, it was a far cry from the tea party.  
  
Harry was against the wall on his right, his wrists bound in shackles above his head held up with thick metal chains. Voldemort was in the center of the room, holding two wands, and Rayven was on Harry's right with no wand at all.  
  
He only saw this for a moment before they realized he was there. Harry's eyes widened, Rayven looked at him desperately, and Voldemort smiled.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, how good of you to join us," He hissed. "You are just in time to see me kill Mr. Potter here."  
  
"Over my dead body," Ron replied, stepping boldly forward. Harry's eyes, if possible, widened even more.  
  
"Oh?" Voldemort replied. "Another traitor? Dear me, I can't believe you let this stupid child sway you."  
  
"She didn't sway me," Ron smirked. "I was working for the Ministry all along." Harry made a strangled noise behind him, and the Dark Lord's smile turned into a sneer.  
  
"No matter," He spat. "I will just have to kill you as well."  
  
"You wish," Ron replied. "You have weaknesses, you know."  
  
"Yes..." The Dark Lord replied. "And so do you, Mr. Weasley." Ron couldn't do anything to stop it. Before he even knew what was happening, Voldemort had turned to his wife. "Crucio."  
  
She fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Ron felt his heart tightening as if it shared the curse. He watched, horrified, as his wife writhed in pain. His wand was useless, and in any case he had forgotten all about it. So Ron did the only thing he could think of.  
  
The dagger managed to distract Voldemort well. He lifted the curse and turned to see it hurling at him, twirling at an impossible speed. Ron's pulse quickened as ran to his wife, and they watched. Voldemort would be hit be the dagger. He would die. He...  
  
Caught the weapon in mid air.  
  
He brought the dagger down in his hands studying the ebony hilt. He sucked in a breath. "The Dagger of Certain Death," He hissed. "Many years have I searched for this..." Ron was beginning to realize what a huge mistake he had made. His hold on Rayven relaxed slightly, and his gaze turned to Harry, who was struggling with all his might against his bindings.  
  
"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered, and threw the dagger at Harry.  
  
Ron saw it happen in slow motion. The dagger flying toward his best friend. And in the next instant, Rayven was running toward them. Ron reached out to stop her, but wasn't fast enough. In even slower vision, he watched as the dagger penetrated her robe, piercing through her skin.  
  
With a scream, she crashed to the floor. Ron ran across the room to her, pulling her into his arms. Voldemort laughed.  
  
"I really don't understand people like you, Miss Michaels, who sacrifice your lives for someone that put you in prison. However, traitors deserve to die the way the chose. If only..."  
  
Voldemort continued to ramble, but Ron wasn't listening. He was holding his trembling wife. Rayven's golden eyes met his, and he gently brushed her hair away.  
  
"Don't die, Rayven," He begged. "Please don't die."  
  
"I'm not going to die," She said, trying to smile. She then coughed, and a bit of blood spattered out. The blood from her shoulder was all over Ron, but he didn't notice.  
  
"How can you be sure?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.  
  
"Because," She answered. "I'm going to by a mommy. And you're going to be a daddy. I can't die."  
  
"What?" Ron whispered, his eyes wide. A father...why the hell couldn't she pick a more convenient time to tell him this?  
  
"...ignoring the power I offer, and trying to preach good and evil..."  
  
Voldemort's continued babbling brought him back to the present. Rayven convulsed, and his eyes were brought down to meet hers once more.  
  
"Ron, listen to me," She said urgently. "Take the dagger, and throw it at Harry's chains."  
  
"What?" He hissed.  
  
"Damn it, Ron, it's our only chance." She brought a hand up and caressed his cheek. "Now."  
  
Ron only hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, in one fluid movement, he wrenched the dagger out of her, and threw it at Harry's chains. It sliced through, and before the Dark Lord had the time to react, Harry was flying at him, dagger in hand. Ron watched, and the whole world seemed to stop for just one moment.  
  
The dagger pierced the Dark Lord.  
  
Voldemort fell to the ground, the dagger in his stomach. He was dead. Harry stood over him, panting with exhaustion. Ron turned back to Rayven, whose eyes were closed and had gone limp.  
  
At that moment, Draco burst in with reinforcements from the Ministry. 


	8. Bonds of Love

A/N Well, everyone, we've come a long way. This is the last chapter *sniff*, but there will be an epilogue. I'm working on the first chapter of the sequel, Silver and Gold, right now. This story, Never Turn Back, is the first installment in a trilogy. So, for those of you disappointed or surprised or curious, don't worry, there's a long journey ahead for my poor innocent characters.  
  
Well, that's all I have to say. I can't bring myself to pour all the sappy thank yous out yet, because the epilogue is yet to come. Have fun with this chapter, and don't forget to review!  
  
  
Chapter Seven:  
Bonds of Love  
  
~We were strangers starting out on a journey  
Never dreaming what we'd have to go through  
Now here we are, and I'm suddenly standing  
At the beginning with you  
No one told me I was going to find you  
Unexpected, what you did to my heart  
When I lost hope, you were there to remind me  
This is the start  
Life is a road, and I want to keep going  
Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing  
Life is the road now and forever, wonderful journey  
I'll be there when the world stops turning  
I'll be there when the storm is through  
In the end I wanna be standing  
At the beginning with you~  
  
*Richard Marx and Donna Lewis's 'At the Beginning'  
  
  
Voldemort's dead body, with the hilt of the dagger protruding from its stomach, was the most prominent figure in the room. Above it, Harry's lean form was swaying. He would've fallen, too, if Hermione hadn't rushed forward to steady him.  
  
However, this was not the scene Draco Malfoy was watching. His eyes were searching the shadows. After a moment the adjusted, and he made out the form he had been searching for in the darkness.  
  
By that time, of course, most of their party had rushed to Harry's aid. However, Draco knew there were still a few with him. Severus and Ginny, to be precise.  
  
Draco's heart leapt into his throat as he approached them. Rayven was lying limply in Ron's arms. For a moment, Draco thought she must've fainted from all the excitement, but then he comprehended the copious amounts of blood that had flowed from an ugly wound in her shoulder. He and his two companions came to a dead halt, exchanging looks of confusion and horror, wondering what to do now.  
  
"Ron?" Draco finally tried. He looked up, and Draco nearly flinched. Ron's blue eyes were dull...almost dead-looking. He didn't reply.  
  
"Is she...?" Ginny let her question hang.  
  
"I don't know," Ron whispered hoarsely. However, Draco read a contradicting statement in Ron's eyes. Ron knew; he just didn't want to admit it. He let his head droop again.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Ginny whispered. Obviously it was the right thing to say. Ron's head snapped back up, and his eyes had some spark in them this time. Something inside him had snapped, and he started barking out orders.  
  
"Draco, apparate to Hogsmeade and run up to the castle. Tell Dumbledore we're coming." Draco nodded brusquely, then popped away. Ron then turned to Snape. "Severus, you and I are going to follow suit, with Rayven." Even as he said this, he was on his feet, conjuring a stretcher.  
  
"What about me?" Ginny finally managed to squeak.  
  
"Stay and deal with them," Ron nodded at the group of Ministry officials surrounding Harry and the Dark Lord. It wasn't the job she'd had in mind, but something in Ron's voice brooked no argument. She merely nodded meekly.  
  
"Ready, Severus?" With a nod, the two men and the woman on the stretcher disappeared. Ginny whirred around, only to find the crowd had gone. Throat constricted, she ran through the hallways and out into the open air.  
  
There they were, all in a circle as far as Ginny could tell. And at the center of this circle was a fire with bright blue flames. She only had to ponder for a moment about the fire before she heard a conversation. "Are you sure he's dead, Cornelius?" "Positive, Albus. I saw it with my own eyes."  
  
Heart racing, Ginny shoved her way through the crowd. After what seemed like an eternity (it had really been about five seconds) she saw the familiar, reassuring face of the Headmaster, sitting comfortably in the blue fire.  
  
"What's wrong, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, cutting the Minister off in the middle of a long spiel.  
  
"It's Rayven, sir!" She exclaimed. Ginny was surprised to find she had tears running down her face. "She...I don't know, there was blood everywhere, and-"  
  
"Rayven?"  
  
"Yes, she was just lying there, and-"  
  
"Ginny, listen to me," Dumbledore interrupted in an urgent voice. "Was she pierced by the dagger?"  
  
"I...I don't know!" She wailed. "Maybe, she was bleeding everywhere."  
  
"Apparate to Hogsmeade and get here as quickly as possible," Dumbledore instructed.  
  
"But Ron told me to stay and deal with the Minister-"  
  
"To hell with the Minister!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Rayven will need all the help she can get." With that, the fire extinguished itself. Before anyone could say anything, Ginny disapparated.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
By the time Severus and Ron had arrived with Rayven, Draco and Dumbledore were waiting for them. They were utterly prepared; Dumbledore immediately ushered them into the hospital wing, where a bed had already been prepared for her. As soon as she was laid down, Madame Pomfrey began nursing her wounds, and the four men had to leave. No sooner had they reentered the hallway then the doors were flung open and Ginny ran inside.  
  
"Ginny?" Ron asked, bordering on disbelief. "I thought I told you to stay and take care of the Minister!"  
  
"I told her to come, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore said.  
  
"How did-"  
  
"There will be time for questions soon," Dumbledore interrupted, raising a hand to bring Ron to silence. "In the meantime, the four of you, especially you, Mr. Weasley, need rest." Without further explanation, he lead them into an empty classroom right next to the hospital wing, with four beds set up. Beside each bed was a goblet filled with sleeping draught. "Good night."  
  
"No dreams," Severus said after glancing at the potion. "Very well, to bed all of you!"  
  
"That includes you, Severus," Dumbledore said, his eyes turning to the professor.  
  
"Headmaster-" Severus began.  
  
"You need rest too, Severus," The Headmaster cut him off. With one more nod, he swept out of the classroom.  
  
And, without further argument, the four of them gratefully took the potion and fell into a deep, sleepless slumber.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The next morning the all got up and went their different ways. The door to the Hospital wing was barred, and although all four tried to get in during different parts of the day, none of them were admitted. So, they went on with their other morning duties of finding a shower and a toothbrush and so on.  
  
However, about an hour after lunch (which none of them even attempted to eat) they each got an owl with a note from Dumbledore, telling them to come up to his office. It was much like Ron remembered it, with six chairs waiting for them.  
  
Ron sank into the fourth or fifth chair...or was it the third? His mind was in a daze. All he could think about was Rayven, and those words she had spoken, "...You're going to be a Daddy..." He hadn't told anyone about that yet. He hadn't come to grips with it himself!  
  
He buried his head in his hands. He had lost his wife and his unborn child. Why? To save Harry Potter's goddamned life. Because no one but the good, great Harry Potter could kill the Dark Lord. Because Rayven was a heroine.  
  
Ron knew, right then, that if he saw Harry he would kill him. Harry was just fine, with his wife and his son. But Ron...there was nothing left for him. Without Rayven, life was nothing. It was just a blur of dull colors and a few indistinguishable sounds. Speaking of sounds...  
  
Ron looked up as the door opened, admitting Dumbledore. Ron looked around, and saw that Ginny and Draco were sitting on either side of him. Severus was standing. Ron was about to go back to his dark musings, which were beginning to become suicidal, when he heard the door open again.  
  
Speak of the devil, it was Harry Potter and his wife.  
  
Ron stiffened, and he felt a hand fly to either shoulder. Draco and Ginny were both pinning him down. It was then that Ron realized the strategic way his companions had placed themselves. He smiled hollowly.  
  
"Now that we are all here, please, take a seat," Dumbledore was referring to the Potters, but his eyes fell on Severus, who didn't move. The Headmaster tactfully decided to ignore this. "I have already heard the story from Harry's point of view."  
  
"Is she dead?" Ron asked, although it didn't really sound like a question. Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, to answer that question I would have to explain what happened to her," He answered. "You see; Miss Michaels wasn't pierced by just an ordinary blade. It was the Dagger of Certain Death. It was forged sometime during the Middle Ages by an evil emperor who wanted to keep suitors away from his daughter."  
  
"And what, exactly, does it do?" Draco asked, not bothering to hide his impatience.  
  
"If it penetrates you heart, you die. There are no exceptions, no way to help you. You are dead."  
  
"It was her right shoulder," Severus pointed out. "It couldn't have hit her heart."  
  
"Well, then, there's only one thing that can save her," Dumbledore replied. "At the risk of sounding very cliché: the one thing that can save her is true love."  
  
Ron stared blankly at him. Then he felt it coming up inside of him. Without warning, he began to laugh. A frightening, cold, maniacal laugh. Everyone else in the room stared in alarm.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Hermione cried, as Ginny and Draco managed to subdue his impulsive laughter. "Doesn't he love her?"  
  
"It's not that simple, Hermione," Ron said, shaking his head as the laughter died. "She's a Death Eater. Magically speaking, love doesn't exist for her."  
  
"What?" Hermione whispered. "That's impossible! It's-"  
  
"Absolutely true, Mrs. Potter," Dumbledore interrupted, and Hermione's protests died in her throat. "You see, Voldemort couldn't really prevent his Death Eaters from loving or being loved, so he did the next best thing: Storybook love required for Potions and spells are useless with them.  
  
"However," here the Headmaster sighed. "I did not say true love between a man and a woman. Remember; this dagger was created by an emperor for his daughter. Even Voldemort can't sever the bonds between a parent and their child."  
  
"Maternal and paternal affection," Draco made a face.  
  
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore sighed. "Both of Rayven's parents have been dead for many years. The only thing that could save her would be if she had a child of her own."  
  
Silence hung in the air as everyone in the room accepted Rayven's fate. However, a tiny voice in the back of Ron's voice kept saying over and over "I'm going to be a mommy, and you're going to be a daddy. I can't die..." Ron kept telling himself it was impossible, she was hallucinating, and it wouldn't work with an unborn child anyway. But something kept telling him she was alive, and so was his child...  
  
"Professor," Ron finally said. "What if..." He pushed all his skepticism away. "What if she were going to have a child?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore asked, looking up. Ron shifted uncomfortably as everyone's eyes turned to him.  
  
"What if she were...pregnant?" Ron asked. It was the word he hadn't dared to use, not even in his thoughts. Saying it made it so...real.  
  
"I suppose, possibly..." Dumbledore never got to finish. Ron had leapt from his seat and was flying down the stairs. Draco leapt up and began to follow him. He turned at the door when he realized no one was following him.  
  
"Well?" It only took one syllable to get everyone else in gear. Ginny, Severus, Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione followed Draco and Ron at a sprint. Ron outstripped them all, his heart pounding in his chest as he skidded to a halt at the end of the Hospital Corridor. He ran down to the door, and found it open, stopping again, he looked inside.  
  
Nothing. The room was as still as a graveyard. They must have already moved her from her bed to a coffin. Ron's shoulder sank. The others didn't even enter the hall, just stared at the figure in the doorway halfway down. As if they didn't already know, Ron turned to them and shook his head. But no sooner had he done this, than he heard voice floating down from the other end of the hall.  
  
"Young lady, I strictly forbade you to leave your bed! And in your state-"  
  
"I'm sorry, Madame, but I need to find them right now!" Ron would've recognized that frustrated voice anywhere. He turned slowly, hardly able to believe his ears. However, they were supported from evidence from his eyes as Madame Pomfrey rounded the corner with a sulking young woman in a nightdress following her.  
  
"Rayven?" The word was rasping and disbelieving, so soft Ron could hardly hear it himself. However, she heard it. Her head flew up, and her eyes and smile brightened.  
  
"Ron!" She cried, running down the hall. Hardly daring to believe it, Ron pulled his wife into a close embrace. Then he laughed--yes, really laughed this time--and lifted her by her waist to spin her around him. She was alive, yes, it really was his Rayven that was laughing and twirling around him. He brought her down to the ground again, and kissed her as passionately as he could.  
  
"Rayven!" Ginny screamed, unable to hold it in any longer. Ron and Rayven broke apart so Rayven could embrace Ginny. Both girls were crying. She then hugged Severus and Draco.  
  
She's alive, she's alive, she is ALIVE! It was the only thought Ron's mind could comprehend as he watched her welcome all her friends with open arms, crying freely. Then, to his delight, she turned to him with that certain smile, and eased herself back into his arms.  
  
"Er..." The sound came from Harry, who was awkwardly watching the display. Dumbledore was smiling, and Hermione was...good Lord, Ron thought to himself, was Hermione crying? Yes, she was, he realized as she swept forward to that she was standing in front of Ron and Rayven.  
  
"I'm so sorry," She choked. Rayven smiled, and pulled her into an embrace. When she let go, Hermione turned her eyes to Ron's. After a moment, Ron followed his wife's example.  
  
"Nothing is between us now," He said as he pulled Hermione away. She was trying to control her sobs. "No secrets."  
  
"I didn't know, Ron," She said. "I didn't know. I-"  
  
"I know," He smiled. Harry then came up behind his wife. His green eyes behind his glasses were wide, taking in everything around him. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, and Ron started tugging at his robe. Ginny, Hermione, and Rayven exchanged knowing looks.  
  
"Ron-" Harry started at the same time Ron said "Harry-"  
  
"Look, er..." Harry said. "I...uh...owe you..."  
  
"Don't bother, Harry," Ron replied. "I owe you one too." For a moment, the just kind of looked at each other. Harry held out his hand. Ron completely ignored it, and gave his best friend a brotherly hug. Draco rolled his eyes, Severus looked like he wanted to, but the girls seemed to think it was sweet.  
  
"So wait," Draco said, after all the hugging and mush was out of the way. "You're going to have a baby, Rayven?" Rayven blushed, and looked up at Ron. He put an arm around her waist.  
  
"Huh," Harry said, unable to think of anything better. It was at that moment that Madame Pomfrey (who had left the scene muttering several minutes ago) returned.  
  
"Harry Potter?" She asked. Harry looked over at her. "There is someone here to see you. I brought her up here, I hope you don't mind."  
  
"No, no not at all." They all watched curiously as a timid blonde woman walked in, clutching her handbag. Harry's jaw dropped.  
  
"Aunt Petunia?" He asked in shock. It was indeed. She flushed when he said this.  
  
"Oh! You're alright, then? I, er, just wanted to make sure, you know. After, I mean, well I heard on the news that you were missing, and I...well, you're alright, so I'll leave now."  
  
"Petunia?" The voice this time was Rayven's. Petunia turned around and smiled when she saw her.  
  
"Rayven, darling!" She cried. The two women hugged, and Harry's jaw dropped, if possible, even lower, and the eyes of everyone in the room (excluding Ron, who was laughing) got wider.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Rayven demanded.  
  
"I was just making sure Harry was okay," Petunia replied. "I had another dream with my sister in it."  
  
"Lily Potter was your SISTER?!" Rayven demanded. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"I didn't realize you were acquainted with my nephew," She replied. "Although I should've guessed, seeing as Ron's his best friend." Now even Ron's jaw dropped. Petunia laughed.  
  
"Yes, Ron, I recognized you the minute I walked into the church. But don't worry, I didn't tell Vernon." She winked at him. "So, how was the honeymoon, Mrs. Weasley?"  
  
As if everyone in the room wasn't in enough shock, this put them over the edge. Harry stumbled backward, Hermione was threatening to faint, Ginny stared at Rayven, Draco stared at Ron, Severus stared at Dumbledore and Dumbledore's jaw dropped.  
  
"Oh dear," Petunia said, observing the reactions around the room. "Have you still not told anyone?"  
  
"We were just trying to think of a way to tell them anyway," Ron assured her, coming up behind Rayven with a grin. "This way is definitely the most humorous."  
  
"Indeed," Rayven said, looking around the room.  
  
"Well, you're not even wearing your ring!" Petunia cried, seeing Rayven's finger. She laughed, and pulled out the gold chain around her neck.  
  
"So no one would see it." She explained. "Now, about the honeymoon. We've been terribly busy, so we actually haven't gone yet."  
  
"Really?" Petunia asked.  
  
"Yes, but now we're all ready to go," Ron grinned. "We were thinking about France."  
  
"No," Rayven said, turning to her husband. "We were thinking about Spain."  
  
"No, we were thinking about France!  
  
"We were THINKING about SPAIN!"  
  
"FRANCE!"  
  
"SPAIN!"  
  
"You know," Petunia interrupted thoughtfully. "I honeymooned in Germany." Ron and Rayven looked at each other, and identical smiles spread across their faces.  
  
"Deutschland," They said in unison, then all three of them broke out into laughter.  
  
"I...you...married?" Draco asked in bewilderment. Ron and Rayven turned, and Draco could've hit himself over the head. He hadn't realized how in love they were.  
  
"Yeah," Ron blushed. "We got married in May. We didn't tell anyone."  
  
"How does SHE know?" Harry asked, gesturing to his aunt.  
  
"Petunia here and her husband Vernon were our witnesses," Rayven beamed. "We'll probably have another ceremony though, for the family."  
  
"The family..." The voice was Ginny's. Something dawned on her, and she looked up with bright eyes. "Oh my God, we're sisters!" She squealed, and with that they were hugging again. Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well...er...congratulations," Draco said, offering a hand. Harry, Severus, and Dumbledore did the same, while Hermione went to be girly with the others.   
  
"So it's Rayven Weasley?" Dumbledore mused, looking down at her and her husband fondly. "Very good, very good."  
  
"Will you really have another ceremony?" Ginny asked her eyes alight.  
  
"Well...?" She looked over at Ron. His eyes darkened.  
  
"For you guys," He said, looking around the room. "You too, Petunia, I promise. I don't think Mum and Dad will want to come."  
  
And uncomfortable silence descended on them. Even Petunia, who didn't really understand what was going on, felt it.  
  
"I really must be going," She said. "Vernon will miss me."  
  
"Goodbye, Petunia," Rayven said, giving her a last hug. Petunia smiled awkwardly at Harry, who nodded back. It was probably the most civil exchange they had ever had.  
  
"Go on home," Dumbledore said kindly to the young men and women around him. "Cornelius is going to have an awards ceremony in a few days. Until then, you need a vacation. Ginny, you and Bill have the time off too."  
  
With a nod, they began to disapparate. Ron and Rayven first, then the Potters. Dumbledore and Severus melted away. After a moment of awkward silence Draco took Ginny's hand.  
  
"This is it, Ginny," He said. "Voldemort's dead."  
  
"Yeah..." She muttered. Their eyes met. Nothing happened.  
  
"Just kiss her already!" A voice yelled. They whipped around to see Madame Pomfrey smiling. She bustled off, leaving them alone.  
  
"You heard the woman," Ginny grinned. Draco smiled down, and kissed her. He then took her hand, and they disapparated as well.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The little park near the Ministry building had never seen such a crowd. Practically all of wizarding Britain was there, seated on the lawns in the chairs that had been provided, looking up at the stage that had been erected for the occasion.  
  
Ginny was there, of course, seated between her parents and her brothers. Well, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George. She didn't know where Ron was, and of course Percy...well, she didn't really want to think about that.  
  
Everyone was in a celebratory mood, parties had been going on for days in honor of Harry Potter's final triumph over Voldemort. This ceremony was for the aurors and such who had helped bring him down. Harry was on the list for twelve different awards. They had all been handed programs when they came in, and Ginny was prepared to have a few words with the Minister. The Circle of the Two-Faced wasn't on there anywhere.  
  
She watched as Fudge made a touching speech, then proceeded with the awards. Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, and several others Ginny didn't recognize went up to receive Orders of Merlin in various classes. Then, Fudge made a speech to Harry, who went red as he received twelve straight awards. After that, everyone started to get up, but Fudge interrupted them.  
  
"Wait a moment, folks," He said into his magical microphone. "I know Mr. Potter is the last man on the list, but there are a few more awards I'd like to hand out."  
  
Ginny fell into her chair, her heart fluttering. Was this it? Maybe, if her parents saw this, they would understand. Maybe they could be a family again. Maybe...  
  
"The people I have awarded today," Fudge began. "Openly fought and loathed the Dark Lord. However, there are those who helped our cause in a different way. They were spies, working as Death Eaters to protect and warn us of what was happening.  
  
"The first man to work as one of these came to us looking for forgiveness. He was seventeen years old at the time. Now, he has been working with us to undermine the Dark Lord's plans for over twenty years. I'd like to award the Order of Merlin, First Class, to the Ministry's first spy against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named; Professor Severus Snape!" Ginny applauded like nuts, whistling and yelling. The others applauded too, but they didn't really understand. Ginny felt a surge of annoyance when she heard her father scoff on her left as Severus slowly went forward, received the award, and quickly went back to his seat.  
  
"Professor Snape wasn't the only man to do this, however," Fudge continued. "And I'd like to ask the next few people to remain standing her, since I believe they should be recognized together. Firstly, there was a boy-yes, ladies and gentlemen, a child of fourteen-who also came to us. His father was a Death Eater, and he wanted to help us instead of follow in his father's footsteps. For our sakes, he became a Death Eater at age fifteen." The Minister stopped for dramatic effect. "Fifteen. Do you remember your lives at fifteen years of age? I'm sure they did not involve answering to a powerful Dark Lord and then risking your life to betray him to the Ministry. Well, that's what this man did. I'd like to award the Order of Merlin, First Class, to Mr. Draco Malfoy." Ginny, once again, cheered as loud as she could.   
  
"Ginny, please!" Her mother said, looking at Draco with distaste. "Arthur, this is quite a waste of time. They are awarding men who probably told them one thing, after the fact. I will not stand for it." She started to get up, but Ginny snapped.  
  
"Damn it, Mother!" This made Mrs. Weasley sit down in a hurry. Her parents and her brothers stared at her. "Don't you understand?" She cried. "I'm an Unspeakable. Do you know what my job is? I'll tell you: it was staying up, every night, and waiting for one of these spies to come to my office. They came shaking and trembling, telling horrible stories. Do you think that's what they wanted? One of the spies was caught by Voldemort. He didn't just kill her, Mum, that would've been too damn easy. He tortured her, slowly. That's what these people risked." Her voice was taking on a higher pitch. "So I think you can at least have the decency to stay and watch them be honored for their sacrifices made on the behalf of ungrateful people like you!"  
  
With that, Ginny turned and watched as Draco stood back, and the applause had died down.  
  
"Ginny...Ginny, we didn't know-" Mr. Weasley began.  
  
"Well you do now," She snapped. "Watch." Fudge was beginning his next award.  
  
"Many of you remember the gruesome death of Miss Angel Pentser, who was also one of these spies. Well, Angel had a best friend, who also entered the business. She was recruited on accident, because we saw the powerful potential in these two girls that You-Know-Who would've eventually seen too. So, this young woman was initiated just before her eighteenth birthday to become one of them along with her best friend, who later died in our service. Still, she went on never even thinking of going back. She was imprisoned by US, but she escaped. She then nearly gave her life defending Harry Potter at the final battle, taking a dagger to the shoulder in his place. I'd like to award the Order of Merlin, First Class, to Miss Rayven Michaels."  
  
Harry and his group of aurors that had captured Rayven stood up and gave her a standing ovation. She blushed, and let Fudge put the pendant over her head. She then walked back to stand by Draco. They exchanged high-fives before Fudge approached the microphone again. He waited for dead silence, and Ginny knew what was coming.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, these two young people were very brave. Miss Michaels was an orphan, and Mr. Malfoy, as we all know, was brought up to be a Death Eater. So maybe, in a way, it was easier for them." Fudge leaned forward onto his podium, addressing the audience on a more personal level.  
  
"Imagine, for a moment," He began quietly. "That you were brought up in a very tight knit family. Imagine that that family very openly detested the Dark Lord. Imagine you had grown up wanting to be an auror. Imagine you were working at the Ministry for some extra money one summer, and one of your professors pulls you into an office and tells you that you have the potential to be one of the most feared Death Eaters of all time." He let the thought hang in the air. "Rather a lot to swallow? Now imagine your professor tells you that if you become a Death Eater with the Ministry, you can help in ways even the aurors can't. You could prevent major attacks, you could defend the public, you could protect those you love...at a price. The price being your family, your friends, your career, and basically your entire life. Do you take him up?  
  
"This young man did. At age sixteen he threw away everything he had been taught since childhood to become a spy. That is courage I have never seen the likes of before. Since then, this man has risen to the highest ranks of the Dark Lord, then been imprisoned in Azkaban, only to be let out just in time to help Harry Potter fight the Dark Lord. Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to award both the Order of Merlin, First Class, and the Order of Phoenix, to Mr. Ronald Weasley."  
  
Ginny leapt to her feet, screaming like mad. Her other brothers and her parents just sat and stared dumbly as Ron, blushing furiously, climbed onto the stage and accepted both awards. Harry and Hermione were also on their feet. Around her, she heard the people chanting 'speech, speech, speech, speech!' Ron timidly approached the podium after getting a hardy slap on the back from Draco.  
  
"Um...I'm not really much good at speeches..." He began. Rayven came up to him, and took the microphone.  
  
"Just a moment, Ron, I have to register a complaint," She said.  
  
"By all means," He replied. She looked down at Fudge.  
  
"Minister, you pronounced my name wrong," She declared.  
  
"What?" Fudge replied, confused. "How did I do that? Isn't your name Rayven?"  
  
"It wasn't my first name, it was my last name," Rayven explained.  
  
"Michaels?" The Minister continued.  
  
"See, that's just it, my name isn't Michaels," She said. With a jolt, Ron realized what she was going to do. He braced himself, and saw her wink at him before continuing. "It's Weasley. Mrs. Ronald Weasley, if you don't mind." She put her arms through his, and gave him a dazzling smile, he had to smile back down at her. He was dimly aware of applause, mainly from Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Draco.  
  
"Oh," Fudge said stupidly. Ron laughed.  
  
"Okay, well, my speech. Hmm..." Ron said. "I suppose I should thank Bill Croaker and my sister Ginny for being the most wonderful contacts ever." Wild applause. "And...er, well, this is where I'm supposed to thank family and friends, but I don't really have anyone else, do you guys?" He asked, looking at Rayven and Draco. They both shook their heads, grinning. This was priceless. "Well then, I only have four words." With that, he turned to Rayven and Draco. "Guys, we did it!" The three of them immediately started screaming over the wild of applause of the (only slightly drunk) audience. Ginny stood on her chair so she could see over people's heads to the stage, which Severus had now leapt onto.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen," The Potions Master said. "I've grown very close to these kids. I almost feel like they're mine. I am very proud of them. As the Minister pointed out, only one of them really has a family. So if the so-called parents of Ron Weasley don't get up here right now, I will be forced to come over for Christmas."  
  
Needless to say, that got Mr. and Mrs. Weasley up in a hurry.  
  
Ginny was already on the stage. She flew to Draco who picked her up and twirled her around much the same way as Ron had with Rayven the other night. He then put her down and kissed her. He lifted his face away just a tiny bit, so that when he spoke, only she could hear.  
  
"I should've done this a long time ago." He looked over at Ron, who nodded. Ginny watched the exchange in puzzlement, until she saw Draco drop to one knee. She gasped.   
  
"Ginny Weasley, will you marry me?"  
  
"Oh my God!" She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yes!"  
  
"Oh dear, I'm going to have Draco Malfoy for a brother-in-law," Ron said, making a face as Ginny and Draco kissed...again. Rayven laughed.  
  
"It could be worse," She pointed out.  
  
"Ron!" A voice was heard through the hullabaloo. Ron turned, a grin on his face, but then stopped.  
  
The voice had been his father's. His parents and his brothers were watching hesitantly. He walked over to them slowly, avoiding his mother's eye.  
  
"Ron?" She asked, making her look up at him. He reluctantly did so, and saw her eyes shining. Was that...pride?  
  
Before he could figure it out, she had wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug. He had just disentangled himself from her when he was passed to his father and his brothers. Then Harry and Hermione, who smiled and hugged him as well. Mrs. Weasley had pounced on Rayven, welcoming her to the family and demanding another ceremony. Ron wished, in that moment, that things could go back the way they used to be.  
  
He imagined himself working in an office at Auror HQ, jealously watching Harry and Hermione's love bloom. He imagined never meeting Rayven, and cursing Malfoy every time the subject had been brought up. He imagined never having met Angel Pentser, or learning all the lessons he had learned over these two years. He imagined the way things used to be. He snorted.  
  
Or not. 


	9. The Next Generation

A/N: Well guys, this is it. The epilogue. It's over. I think I'm going to cry. Even though I finished this story many moons ago, I feel like it's really finished now. *sniff* This story started by accident. I opened Word to start writing Glimpse, and the next thing I knew my fingers had started typing. Ron has always been my favorite character, and with this story I think I've finally written him the way I think he really is. I put him into a situation, and from their, he took off. The next thing I knew I had characters and a plot. This has become my favorite story to write, and I'm sad (but happy too!) to see it end.  
  
To my reviewers: I never could have done it without you. I was amazed and greatly touched by all the positive feedback I received from this fic. Some of your reviews literally made me cry. I'd like to thank each and every one of you.  
  
Thanks to:  
TamPierce TrisanaMoss  
Barbara Sheridan  
Matt  
Momo  
Lila  
CatC10  
R.W.G.S.  
Crazedwriter  
S-leonie6  
SilverPixie  
Slush puppy  
Dragon Lady  
x_X  
Leigh  
Iapetus  
PhoenixStAr  
Jersey Pike  
Holz  
Christa  
Malexandria  
Ghost Dancer  
Nycgirl  
  
A giant fruit pineapple basket because they're so cool to:  
J.  
Lady Lylian  
AntipodeanOpaleye  
Lily Lupin  
Ronslittlegirl  
Lily  
K-da-great  
DaRk AnGeL  
  
  
I LOVE YOU GUYS AND YOU ARE SO COOL BECAUSE YOU REVIEWED FOR EVERY CHAPTER! HUGGLES TO:  
  
Shadow Phantom: Thank you so much for showing up on my review list again and again. You were one of the first people to ever review this story, and you were always one of the first when I updated. I appreciate your comments and compliments. Thank you!!  
  
CrystalHorse72: You totally blew me away. You sent all those reviews, then EMAILED me? You're nuts! I love you for it! You inspired me to go on, to write the sequel (which is giving me grief) and to be so update stingy. You've been a great reviewer, I hope to see you in Silver and Gold!!!!!!!  
  
Just_a_girl_56: Hey girl! Great big thank you for all your reviews!!! I was so pleased. Once again, I was totally amazed by your acceptance and thoughts. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Please come back and read S&G, I can't wait to see what you think!  
  
And, of course, I must send you my messages to those people who actually helped with this story.  
  
Diana Snape: Who never actually REVIEWED *cough cough* That's okay. Diana, you've been there wince the beginning of this fic, and you've helped so much with the sequel. Thank you!  
  
Sierra Charm: Hey Post! Thanks for helping with this, and listening to me babble about it for hours on end. You've contributed a lot! If not for you, this story wouldn't have turned Ginny/Draco, and THEN where would our sequel be?  
  
SilverPhoenixWings: You reviewed! Like a hundred times! And they were long! *squeals* You're such a great author, SPW, and I was really pleased by how much you liked this. I was like, hooray, I can actually write! Thank you!  
  
Britz: HI!!! You also got to hear me talk about this story nonstop for hours. Lucky you. Anyway, thank you for the reviews and the advice. I blushed when I read your reviews. I felt so loved! Thanks so much for all your support in my writing.   
  
THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO STAR*DUST!!!!  
S*D: You helped SO MUCH with this story, I can't even begin to tell you. And that review disaster...it was hilarious, lets face it. The whole '1111' thing. That is sooooooooo funny. Anyway, thanks for all your help and positive comments. And the sequel! I can't even say enough. Merci beaucoup!!  
  
About the sequel: The sequel is entitled 'Silver and Gold' (yeah, duh.) And its giving me a whole bunch of problems. So, yeah, it's going to be a while before that's up. I have no idea how long, but I WILL send an email. For those of you already on my update list, it hasn't finished here.  
  
Okay, so, yeah, here's the sequel. Everyone, have a great time. I'll see you in Silver and Gold. *sniff* Okay, yeah, so here goes.  
  
*ahem*  
  
  
  
  
Epilogue:  
The next generation  
  
~We were strangers on a crazy adventure  
Never dreaming how our dreams would come true  
Now here we stand unafraid of the future  
At the beginning with you  
....  
I knew there was somebody somewhere  
Like me alone in the dark  
Now I know my dream will live on  
I've been waiting so long  
Nothing's gonna tear us apart  
Life is a road and I wanna keep going  
Love is a river I wanna keep flowing  
In the end I wanna be standing  
At the beginning with you  
  
*Richard Marx and Donna Lewis's 'At the Beginning'  
  
  
James Edward Potter's first birthday was an extravaganza to remember. Half the wizarding community was there, celebrating.   
  
Harry and Hermione had a wonderful time, but at the end of the day, they were glad when most of them had gone home. Most, not all. Their four most trusted friends (well, that is, three of them and Draco) remained.  
  
"That was fun!" Rayven insisted, snuggling into Ron. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.  
  
"That was exhausting," Hermione amended, falling into a chair.   
  
"I agree with Hermione!" Draco announced.  
  
"Wimp," Ginny teased, sitting down on his lap. He began to play with her hair. Ginny and Draco had been married for over ten months now.   
  
"Shh," Harry said, coming down to sit with his wife. "They just fell asleep."  
  
"They," Hermione giggled. "It's so weird to know there's three sleeping children in this house.  
  
"Soon to be four," Harry reminded her, placing a hand on his wife's stomach. The group laughed quietly. Soon they all went off to their bedrooms. After Voldemort's downfall Harry and Hermione had bought a beautiful white house large enough to house all the children they wanted, and in the meantime several guests. Ginny and Draco went off hand in hand. Rayven and Ron were walking slowly down the hall. Ron stopped at the nursery.  
  
"I'll be along in a minute," He whispered to his wife. She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing. She went on into their room, as Ron silently slipped into the nursery.  
  
There they were, all three of them. The closest crib was that of James Potter, the birthday boy. His hair was already turning out to be as impossible as his father's, although it was a dark brown instead of jet-black. Ron smiled down at his godson before tiptoeing past.  
  
The next crib belonged to the youngest of the three children. Angel Marie Malfoy, Draco and Ginny's first-born daughter, was only one month old. She too was sleeping peacefully. Angel lived up to her name, which was, of course, after their dear friend Angel Pentser. It had been Ginny's idea, since she had heard so much about the woman and her wonderful attributes.  
  
Finally Ron reached the final crib. He gently lifted the child, cradling her in his arms. She opened her eyes, but didn't cry out. She gave him an adorable baby smile, a little gurgle, and then turned and nestled into his arms.  
  
Ron nearly cried. His baby girl.  
  
Her name was Grace Cora Weasley. Her hair was already bright Weasley red, and her eyes were golden like her mother's. She was, in Ron's eyes, perfect. He would never let his daughter see the horrors he had seen.  
  
After a few moments alone with his daughter, he put her back in the crib. Smiling at the children, he went to his room where Rayven was waiting for him.  
  
"Is she okay?" Rayven asked. He smiled.  
  
"She's perfect," He smiled, and laid down. "Rayven, what am I going to do when she gets a boyfriend?" His wife laughed.  
  
"I've heard about fathers and their daughters, but I didn't know it was that bad," She teased.  
  
"You don't understand, I know how a teenage boy's mind works, and-"  
  
"Calm down, Ron," She soothed. "She'll be fine. She'll have James to watch over her."  
  
"Oh no..." Ron muttered.  
  
"What?" Rayven replied, looking at him curiously.  
  
"If they act anything like we did in school, I'll have a heart attack," He said. Rayven laughed.  
  
"It would serve you right." She said. Ron closed his eyes, and prayed for his daughter. He then sighed, and turned on his side, slipping an arm around Rayven's waist. Whatever happened, he had the only thing he had wanted: the woman he loved and the perfect child.  
  
He was marching into the future with his head held high, never turning back. 


End file.
